Insert Indefinitely Postponed End of Season Finale Here
by Mei1105
Summary: Anti-Cliche and Mary-Sue Elimination Society. As the Society struggle to wake from their two year slumber, the Sovereigns close in for the kill. Meanwhile Adrian takes a tumble somewhere he did not expect, and Runoa's long quest for her story finally comes to a conclusion. The long awaited finale to Season 2. Updates every two weeks!
1. Chapter 1: Blazing Sun

**Insert Indefinitely Postponed End of Season Finale Here**

 **Chapter 1: When The Blazing Sun Is Gone**

"Bored," Emily whined. "Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored!"

"Emily, it's been five minutes," Kuroneko protested.

"Wrong." Emily jabbed a finger at her. "It's been five minutes and fifty seven seconds...fifty eight...fifty nine..."

"Regardless," Kuroneko interrupted, cleaning her blades on the end of her oriental silk dress. "It will take Harriet much longer than that, so I suggest you make yourself comfortable, and stop whining."

"I am a teenager!" Emily pointed out. "I am supposed to whine, sulk and pout, and I reserve the right to do so whenever I bloody well want to!"

"The lady speaks the truth," Creation said idly, scratching away at her sketchbook, causing little flowerbeds to appear in between the boxes of abandoned stories. "We don't know how long it'll take Harriet to find agents to revive. The Library is a big place."

"The Society usually hang out in the same area," Emily informed her. "We don't tend to wander too far. Usually if we want to research something special, the Library reshuffles the rooms to bring them closer to us so we don't have to walk huge distances."

"Hmm...that explains a lot about your general fitness," Kuroneko muttered.

"Shut your face!" Emily snapped. She wasn't sensitive about a lot of things, but her weight was one of them. That was what happened when you had sisters who looked like supermodels.

"Ladies, please." Harmony stepped in, hands raised. "We may be here for some time, and I am sure that Harriet would like to come back and not find you both at each other's throats."

Emily scowled at her opponent. "I could take her."

"I'd like to see you try," Kuroneko looked singularly unimpressed and went back to sharpening her fans, leaving Emily to slump down on the floor next to Creation. The Sovereign took pity on her, and handed her a spare sketchbook.

"If you are done with the petty tantrums," Aramayis put in. "It may have escaped your notice that one of our number is going for a walk."

He nodded off a few rows away, where the Librarian himself was wandering between the boxes, a strangely faraway look on his face.

"Adrian?" Emily was back on her feet in an instant, sketchbook and argument forgotten. "Where are you going?"

The Librarian gave no answer, moving another row down, and crouching in front of a box curiously.

"Uh oh..." Harmony gulped, taking off not a second behind Emily.

"Someone stop him!" Aramayis was commanding, as he flashstepped past them. Emily did not care who got there first, but she knew that Adrian poking at other people's stories could mean nothing good.

Aramayis's hand was inches from snagging the back of the Librarian's shirt, before he tumbled face first into the box. It snapped closed behind him.

"No, no, NO!" Furious, Emily skidded to a halt and kicked the box. Pain exploded across her foot, and she howled. "You fucking idiot!" she shrieked.

"Calm down, Emily." Harmony placed both hands on her shoulders. "Beating up the box will not help things."

"What was he thinking?" the furious Foxblade ranted.

"I don't think he was," Kuroneko quipped, crouching down and examining the box. There was no plaque on this one – rather the name and author was carved into the lid, nestled amongst a floral design.

The breath went out of Emily in an instant.

"Holy shit!"

"Language!" Creation finally thought to critique. Darting forward out of Harmony's grasp, Emily ran her hands over the carving, just to make sure that she was not seeing things. They spelt the same under her fingertips.

 _Blade Dancers: Between the Lines_

 _Gail Fireria_

"Blade Dancers..." Kuroneko frowned. "That's Phoenixia's series, isn't it?"

"It's Phoenixia's definitive work!" Emily exclaimed. "It's her magnum opus! They've made video games out of that series!" She was a huge fan of the Blade Dancers series, and had always felt smug when she remembered that she lived with the author.

"Wait, back up," Harmony requested, confusion written on her face. "What does this box have to do with Phoenixia?"

"It's one of her stories," Emily explained. "Gail Fireria is her pseudonym. I don't recognise that particular story name, but the Blade Dancer series is hers."

"This must be one of her stories that she hasn't finished yet," Aramayis concluded. "Her work in progress. I imagine a two year hiatus while she's been running around as Divinity is probably long enough to get it consigned here."

"But why would Adrian run off into it?" Kuroneko asked. "We can't afford distractions now. And he wouldn't get distracted from the Library – it's the most important thing in the world to him."

"Don't tell Tashy you said that," Emily snarked.

"He did say that he could feel something this way... when we first came in," Harmony remembered. "He was getting drawn over here. But that didn't make any sense – as an original character, he should have been drawn to his home." She gestured back to the huge wardrobe sized container that housed the Library.

Emily studied the small wooden box again. It had no strong draw to her – not like the magnetic pull of the Library. It was just a box, like any of the other boxes in this area. The only thing that made it any more interesting than the other boxes to her, was the fact that it was Phoenixia's name carved on the front.

"We should go in after him," she said. A hand grabbed her and sharply yanked her away. Aramayis might have been the mildest of the Counter Guardians, but he was freakishly strong as he dragged her back to the box that housed the Library.

"We will do no such thing," he said, dumping her pointedly on the ground. "Adrian is a big boy – whatever it was that drew him in there, he can take care of it himself."

The urge to strike the Counter Guardian was overwhelming, but it would serve no purpose, and Emily knew it. Instead she howled her displeasure and kicked furiously at the tiny box next to the Library.

"Tantrums will not make Aramayis any less right," Kuroneko said pointedly, taking a seat on the ground, and resuming polishing her fans. Harmony and Creation were clearly still curious, but had no urge to go follow the Librarian themselves, so they too retook their seats. "So you may as well admit it, and get comfortable."

If Emily could have spat venom, she would have done. Instead she flipped open the sketchbook and pointedly began to draw a large acme-style anvil. She lacked Creation's power to bring it to life, but she would never give Aramayis the satisfaction of being right.

OOO

The halls of the Library Arcanium were dark, like the shadows had sprung from the walls and had drained the life from the place. The colours were strangely muted, and darkness hung in the air like a humid miasma.

Against the backdrop of gloom, Harriet seemed to be glowing.

She felt energised – the good kind of energy and invigoration that came from a nice long workout, not the buzzing that came from an energy drink. Her eyes felt clearer, her ears sharper, and her mind was turning smoothly like a well oiled machine. The other vials of Creative Adrenaline clinked in her bag, waiting to be used. Six syringes, five agents – she knew just who she wanted to give the sixth too.

The question was who to revive?

Her first instinct was easy – Tash. Her second in command still lay in bed, her wounds from Star Wars long healed while her body lay in suspended animation thanks to the spell. Tash was one of the toughest agents in the Society, and they needed firepower. But most importantly, Harriet really wanted her friend back. She had spent two years on the run with only Emily and Adrian for company, and while they were not bad companions, Emily had been more interested in working herself to death than engaging in socialising, and Adrian's hero complex and obnoxiousness often got in the way of good conversation. She had wished far too often for Tash's presence, just to stop her from strangling the Librarian and her daughter.

Valerie was the obvious second choice – however they got the plot moving again, it was a safe bet that somebody was going to get hurt. And it would do to have the healer's calm river of sanity in the madness of what was about to unfold. Still, she was not sure who the other three agents should be. She could anticipate that things might get messy, but beyond that, she had no idea what other kind of skill sets may be required.

Shrugging, she marched quickly to the hospital, where she was sure she would find the first of her targets.

As expected, Tash had not budged an inch. It was disturbing to Harriet – like the rest of the Library, she was almost colourless, and her breathing was so slow and deep that it was almost unrecognisable. She still wore the papery hospital gown, and her arms were still in plaster from the fight in Star Wars. That would be Harriet's first task, and she dropped her bag beside the bed, and hurried off to find the necessary equipment.

Ten minutes later, the used casts were abandoned at the floor, and Harriet swiftly disconnected the empty drip stand, and the monitors before loading up the syringe. Strapping her friend's right arm, she swabbed the crook with one of the alcohol wipes, and carefully slid the syringe into the vein. A gentle press later, and she removed it. She would get Tash to hold some cotton wool there once she woke up, as her co-leader was allergic to plasters.

She did not have long to wait – she had barely backed away from the bed to find the biohazard bin, before Tash's eyes snapped open and she bolted out of bed with a war cry. There was a thud as she tripped over her own plaster casts and hit the floor, followed by a loud 'ooof!' as the air was knocked out of her.

Harriet blinked stupefied at her friend, before an amused smile spread over her face. "Morning, Tashy," she greeted, letting the yellow bin close with a clang as she removed her foot from the pedal. The noise seemed to send a jolt through Tash, who poked her head up sharply like a startled meerkat.

"Hati? Why am I on the floor? Who turned out all the lights? And ow! Who stabbed my arm?"

"That was me." Harriet raised a hand, rounding the bed and helping her friend to stand up. Instead of letting her back onto the bed though, she swept her up into a grateful cuddle. No doubts now – the adrenaline definitely worked. "You have no idea how good it is to see you again, baby."

As she backed off, it was the blonde leader's turn to look stupefied. "Uh…did I go somewhere?"

"I'll explain," Harriet assured her, scooping up her bag. "But first, get some cotton wool on that injection site, put your battle dress on and meet me in the briefing room. We've got work to do."

OOO

No matter which world you lived in, autumn was always the most stunning season. As people toiled hard in fields, bringing in the fruits of a year's labour, nature gave it's last burst of energy before settling down for a quiet and more subdue winter. Even cities seemed to explode with activity, albeit in a less obvious manner.

The city of Patrice was no different. Surrounded by forest on all sides, the city was ringed by a natural wall of stone, which formed the rim of the crater in which it sat. History told that one day, a God, in a fit of rage, had tossed a star into the mortal plane, crushing an entire civilisation into the dirt beneath it. In the middle of this huge crater, water collected to form a natural lake, and eventually, humans were drawn back to it, hiding behind the natural barrier, and taking advantage of the central location in the kingdom. Like ants dutifully carrying their food to the nest, autumn was the time when people emerged from the forest roads, with their wares loaded up on mechanical or hand-pushed carts, adding more splashes of colour to the stunning mix. This city was always busy, but at this time of year, it swelled like the river with the influx of new traders.

The author's beautifully constructed scene was somewhat ruined at this current moment however, by the sight of Adrian the Librarian, banging his cat-eared head hard against a tree at the edge of the forest.

"Idiot... stupid, fuzzy headed idiot... oh let's just follow the strange tugging sensation towards the mysterious box, which sucks me into a random fandom. What could possibly go wrong?"

He decided he had been taking too many sarcasm lessons from Tash, and rewarded himself with another thump on the head. The tree shivered, sending a cascade of crunchy golden leaves into his hair and down the neck of his shirt. Several travellers passing on the road, their backs loaded up with chests of wool, turned curiously, before dismissing him as a random crazy person, and continuing on their way.

He was supposed to be an intelligent man – he was certainly supposed to realise that following random urgings never got you anywhere good. So why had he followed that insatiable tug towards this fandom? It wasn't even finished, and thus he had no innate sense of what sort of story he was in. The world was well constructed, so at least he didn't have to watch out for plotholes the size of the Burj Khalifa, but that did not mean that he was safe. This story could end at any point, with no warning whatsoever.

He was going to owe Harriet one hell of an explanation when he plotholed out of there… which logically, he should have been thinking about doing now.

But the strange (and annoying) thing was, he didn't want to. That urge was still there.

"Stupid… super kitty senses…" the Librarian grumbled. Now his head was really hurting. With a huff, he turned into a kitty with a yowl of pain. He still wasn't on top form – just another thing to add to his list of stupid moments. Scaling the tree to get his bearings, he decided that he could continue his chastisement later.

His eyebrows arched at the sight of the strange crater, rising up slightly at the rim, before plunging down into terraced roads and buildings. The lake filled at least half of the crater, and rising out of the middle of it was a tall spired structure. There were remnants of magic around this place, and he wondered what had happened here. Unlike the readers, he did not have the luxury of historical exposition. 

A set of footsteps passed beneath him, and Adrian ducked down through the leaves, his eyes peering through the gloom to get a better view. Both wore travel clothes, and behind them, a cart pushed itself along unaided. From inside, came a low hum, and Adrian's fur prickled. The cart was being driven by a combination of magic and machinery. It struck a familiar chord, and his heart began to beat faster.

"…coming closer to the edge of Torren. They think they might strike there next." The speaker's travelling clothes were smattered with dust, and his voice had a deep roughness to it. His companion was better dressed, with a carrying basket over one shoulder, and a more lyrical note to his speech.

"Una's graces… we're full already. Any more refugees will have to sleep in the streets at this rate." He sighed. "Still, they will be safe. I've heard that Sierra Iphela will be returning soon – at least we will have a shield if the Gods come too close."

His companion muttered something about tempting fate, before they meandered out of earshot, the mechanised cart trundling along at a low hum behind them.

Adrian gave a Cheshire cat grin.

"Blade Dancers!" Had he not been in kitty form, he would have done a little dance in excitement. The revelation made a lot more sense – not a random fandom after all – though he still was at a loss as to why he'd been drawn in so strongly, even if it was one of Phoenixia's stories. Since he did not recognise the city, it only confirmed that this was one of her unfinished works. Well, now he definitely had to stick around and see why he was here – sheer curiosity was far more compelling than a random tugging sensation. He often loitered over Phoenixia's shoulder, trying to see what she was writing (and often received a rolled up newspaper to the head for his efforts).

But now he spotted another problem. Ringing the edge of the crater, and posted at every road into the city were guards. Politely but firmly, they stopped every traveller on their route, questioned them for a moment, and in a few cases, asked for documentation, before letting them on their way.

Tilting his head, Adrian considered his options. He could try blagging his way in, and he might gain some more information in the process. And if worst came to worst, he could always subdue them. They looked well trained, but he was the Librarian – he was far more badass than they were.

Carefully, he landed back on the ground, and headed for the nearest entrance at a fast clip. The guard seemed to gaze right past him, which made him think that the man might have been on duty for a long while, and was now looking forward to his bed. In Adrian's experience, there were two kinds of guard. There were the ones who were toned, armed, always alert and vigilant whilst on their posts, and then there were the ones whose idea of vigilance consisted of casual walks, and occasionally glancing at a CCTV camera. This man was definitely in the former category. Whatever (or more likely, whoever) they guarded in this city it was serious.

Adrian knew from the background of Phoenixia's universe that each kingdom was very hostile towards foreigners – an unfortunate side effect from being involved in a heavenly war for so many centuries. He winced, as he realised just how genuinely stupid his plan of blagging his way into the city was. But, it was too late to think of another one, as the guard finally seemed to catch sight of him. Adrian tensed, waiting for the inevitable accusatory tone that he was starting to grow accustomed to after so many years as Librarian.

"Aw… here kitty kitty."

It took Adrian a moment of shocked stillness for him to realise that he had not turned back into a human yet. Fortunately, the guard took his frozen stance as a sign of skittishness, and immediately crouched onto his heels and began making little cheeping noises in the back of his throat.

Feeling rather embarrassed for forgetting that he'd had this sort of means of infiltration all along, Adrian cautiously padded up to the man, and took a gentle sniff of the offered hand, before rubbing his head against it, praying to all the Gods that cats did not blush.

The man's hand smelt of leather and oil – probably from some kind of concealed weapon, he guessed. Blade Dancers was medieval in setting, but some of the magical technology was almost futuristic, and had spilled over into the art of weaponry too. Sure enough, a quick glance with Adrian's sharp kitty eyes confirmed the presence of some kind of firearm hidden in the small of the man's back. _Possibly magically amplified,_ he thought, and he was glad that he did not have to fight the man after all, as he wound around his ankles. Magical bullets were harder to dodge.

Voices appeared in the distance, and the man's stance shifted to one of watchfulness again. He gave Adrian a gentle nudge with his boot.

"Go on puss – I'm on duty. Go kill a few of those mice that the missus keeps finding in our larder."

Tail high in the air, as though he had found something far more interesting to occupy his thoughts than a lowly human, Adrian padded off. As soon as he was out of the man's eye line, his ears flattened to his head, and he paused to give himself a little self-flagellating headbutt in the nearest rock.

 _Note to self – I am a cat! I fail subterfuge forever,_ the mortified Librarian thought to himself, before he bounded off down the path towards the nearest bustling street.

OOO

"Two years?"

"There are people sleeping," Valerie warned automatically, before realising how ridiculous that statement was, as everyone in the room was unlikely to wake up anytime soon.

"Two years?" Tash made a point of repeating herself in a furious whisper, as Michael dragged two more unconscious bodies into the room, and set them down flat by the corner.

"That's all of them," he advised, flopping gratefully into a chair, and pressing his knuckles into a painful kink in his back. "Every agent in the Anti-Cliché and Mary-Sue Elimination Society is now present in this room… and some of them need to go on diets. Just sayin'..."

"Ewww!" Rhia suddenly cringed, as the impact of Tash's words hit home. "Are you saying that my fridge door has been left open for two years?"

Valerie rubbed her head guiltily, before reminding herself that it was not as though she had chosen where she had succumbed to the spell.

"Hmm, I guess that's another bill I'll have to hide from Adrian…" Harriet sighed, rummaging around in her handbag. Aster obligingly lit a ball of light to help her see. There wasn't even a scar remaining from her ordeal on the Super Star Destroyer, and Harriet wondered for the millionth time just which fandom Adrian had got that green goo-filled tank from.

"I don't give a toss about Adrian's bills!" Rhia squeaked. "I care about my fridge! My milk has probably grown legs and walked away!"

"Don't worry dear, this is the Library Arcanium," Harriet reminded her. "Everything that goes missing winds up in the basement sooner or later. We'll go fetch it with the flamethrower once we find out where the plot has run off to."

She drew the last syringe out of her bag. "And now that all our agents are safely located, I know just where to find it."

She tapped a few imaginary air bubbles out of the needle, before whirling on her agents. "I need you guys to stay here. If my hunch is correct, I will be back in half an hour, and the plot will be moving again. The Library will automatically remove itself from Development Hell, and the spell will wear off – then the agents will start to wake, and Emily and Adrian will be able to get back in unharmed. If I'm not back, then Michael, you're in charge. Get everyone out and regroup with the others in Development Hell. Savvy?"

Michael gave her a salute, and Harriet whirled on her heel and back up the stairs. Only when she was a corridor away, did she break into a proper run towards the monitor room.

The computer system was slow and sluggish, and with the spell in effect, (a) was nowhere to be seen. Normally this might have pleased Harriet, but as it was, it just rendered the whole exercise too quiet and just a little uncomfortable. Still, after five minutes, she found what she was looking for, and bounded off towards her target. For the plot to get moving again, there needed to be some sort of conflict, and Harriet knew just how to engineer it.

The lost cities room was a subset of both the history wing, and the historical fantasy section. It was pretty vast, and Harriet was expecting a long search between the hundreds of bookshelves. But clearly someone up there was on her side today, as she found what she was looking for slumped between the sixth and seventh shelves on the far right of the room from the door.

She had never seen Runoa sleeping, obviously, and Harriet decided that it did nothing to improve her. People were supposed to look innocent and relaxed in their sleep, but the sixth Librarian just looked focused and intent even in slumber. A small pile of books had been taken off the shelf, and lay abandoned at her side.

Gently, Harriet rested her handbag at the end of the shelf, extracting the vial and the Travelling Shovel of Death. She rested the latter against the books, in easy grabbing range, and tugged up Runoa's sleeve. As she had done for the others, she strapped the arm, swabbed the crook of her elbow, and gently pressed the needle into the flesh. It was a source of much needed confidence and pride, that her hands did not shake as she depressed the plunger, nor as they withdrew the needle again. As fast as she dared, she grabbed the shovel, and took a hasty step back – the former Librarian was safest viewed at a distance.

Everyone had been different – Tashy had shot off her bed like a rocket, while Michael had dozily asked the Darkness for five more minutes. Runoa was no exception to this rule. Her body convulsed like a drowning woman, before her green eyes snapped open, her chest rising and falling in a hasty rhythm.

Placing the used syringe on the nearest bookshelf, Harriet levelled the shovel at the former Librarian's face.

"I'm sorry Runoa dear – I'll need to see your Library card."

It took a second for Runoa to grasp her situation. When she did, she slumped against the floor with a groan.

"So, you found me?" she drawled. She gave the impression of bored resignation, but Harriet could see her eyes flicking between her, the exit and the shovel in her hands.

"I gave you a shot of Creative Adrenaline to negate the spell and wake you up. It's been two years since Star Wars," she explained concisely. "Don't feel the need to thank me," she added snidely.

Runoa's eyebrows, black and perfectly shaped, arched up her forehead. She looked calculating, but Harriet could see that she was just a little bit curious too. "Vials of magical substance, capable of waking up any of your agents... and you choose to use one of them on me. Why?"

"I'm nice like that?" Harriet shrugged, causing the woman on the floor to snort. "Alright, not to you. I'm not stupid though," she defended. "And I've spent the last two years with no fixed address, being chased by Divinity. And all that time, while Adrian and Emily were plotting how to get back into the Library, I was having other thoughts."

Curiosity was definitely winning now, as Runoa sat up straight and rested her elbows on her knees as she listened.

"Even if we got back in here," Harriet explained. "Divinity would still be around, and it wouldn't take her long to get in here herself. I discussed it with Adrian initially – he was all for big flashy complicated plans-" that drew another snort from Runoa. "-but eventually I realised that the best plan was the simplest. And to do that, I need you."

The eyebrows of the sixth Librarian were arched so high up her head, that Harriet wondered for a moment if they would disappear into her hair. "And just why would I agree to help you, dear? Did you factor that into your thoughts?"

"Simple." Harriet shrugged. "Divinity can kill you."

She was not a hundred percent certain of this fact, and Runoa was very practiced at lying. But there was the tiniest moment of stillness from the woman on the floor which told Harriet that she was spot on with her prediction.

"Don't worry." The leader shrugged. "If my plan works, we can probably get through this without needing to fight her at all."

Now Runoa was intrigued. But she was not stupid, and she clearly refused to let Harriet call all the shots. Slowly, she got to her feet, her arms folded. Harriet was surprised as she realised that she and the Lieutenant were equal height – she had always seemed larger than life when she was jumping around trying to kill them all.

"If I agree to this," Runoa said slowly. "I need something in return." Seeing Harriet's curious look, she continued. "Somewhere in this room is a book. Just one. I need to find it, and read it. That is it. I need to be allowed to do this without any interference from the Librarian, or the Counter Guardians."

Harriet was insatiably intrigued, but she realised that now was not the time. "Not the Society?"

Runoa gave her a dry look. "As if any of your agents could interfere enough to stop me. So? Do we have a deal? I get to search for my book, and I'll assist you in your plan... providing it's not too stupid."

Harriet smiled. She wondered if she was going to regret this, and what book could possibly be important enough to prompt such an elaborate and complex scheme, but those were things she could think about later. For now, she had what she wanted. "Deal."

Obligingly, she lowered the Travelling Shovel of Death.

"Alright, what is this grand plan of yours?" Runoa asked, her tone already bored.

Now full on smirking, Harriet began to elaborate as they walked at a quick step down the corridors.

OOO

Whoever had designed the streets of Patrice, way back when some bright spark had first thought to colonise the crater, had clearly been no stranger to several bottles of Redweaver gin, Adrian thought to himself.

It was a lovely city. He had spent the better part of the morning investigating and eavesdropping, as well as reading the helpful information signs at all the interesting landmarks, and he knew enough by now to glean most of the city's past. It had been a normal sized town centuries ago, until the Gods had finally got sick of beating each other up in heaven, and had decided to bring the party to the mortal world. Most people had twigged that the larger cities were nothing more than very large targets, and had instantly uprooted themselves and found smaller, less conspicuous locations to live. In just two years, Patrice's population had quadrupled, and suddenly THEY were the juicy conspicuous target.

And never let it be said that the Gods were slow on the uptake.

A fit of divine rage, and a meteorite flung like a tennis ball, was all it had taken.

Kingdoms and Gods had been horrified or celebrated, depending on their allegiance. People had swept in to clear the city, bury what was left of the dead, and see what could be scavenged.

Everything went on.

Perhaps the worst thing that had come out of this cataclysmic event, was the realisation that the war would never stop. Not even the destruction of so many lives could shock anyone into giving up. The incensed Gods had continued fighting. The grieving kingdoms had continued fighting. Nobody for a moment, sat down and considered that maybe the sensible thing would be to stop fighting all together. They had come too far.

And so, centuries later, there was no end to the battles - both divine and earthly.

But Patrice had not ended. People had come back, and slowly they had rebuilt. Now they were a trade capital and spiritual centre for this particular kingdom, along with a heavy lesson as to what happened when the Gods got pissed off with each other.

The surrounding forest had been sheared back further to build the new houses, making them almost uniform in size, shape and style. All streets ran to the lake which had collected in the centre of the crater. Towering from within the water, like a drowning finger trying to reach the sky, was the temple, dedicated to all of the kingdom's deities. But Adrian held no interest in visiting that. Phoenixia's pantheon tended to be a bunch of arrogant sods.

Still, if he managed to get turned around again in this city, he might just head for the temple to break the monotony.

Irritated that he'd walked for two hours without getting anywhere, he perched himself in the doorway of a nearby house, and proceeded to wash his paws. He'd always thought that the Americans had the right idea of building their streets in grid form. At least then you couldn't get lost unless you were monumentally dumb, in which case, he'd question the wisdom of you operating a vehicle at all. If he ever got out of this unfinished story, and if they ever managed to fix Phoenixia, he would be having a word with his best friend about designing cities that weren't impossible to navigate.

He paused mid-lick, his mind ticking over this one thought. Slowly his curiosity and irritation began to fade, replaced by a deep, uncomfortable guilt. Phoenixia was still out there - or at least, the Immaculated version of her was. What was he doing here, prowling around her unfinished story looking for spoilers, while she had been turned into a monster? His ears and whiskers drooped. He was a terrible friend.

He should really leave.

Almost as soon as that thought entered his head, that feeling was back. He couldn't leave yet - there were things he had to do. Very important things... for the life of him though, he couldn't put his finger (or freshly washed paw) on what.

So deep in contemplation was the seventh Librarian, that he did not register the door opening behind him, or the pair of running footsteps, until one of them had tripped cleanly over him. He gave a startled yelp, and tumbled off the step, rolling to avoid being squished by a pair of dirty knees. His luck did not hold out, however, as the second pair of feet tripped over their sprawled companion, and flailed wildly before coming down heavily. An arm smacked down on top of him and pinned him to the ground. His only mercy was that they had missed his recently broken leg.

"Kay!"

"Sorry! Thanks for the soft landing."

From inside the house, a formidable voice hollered. "What did I just finish telling you two? No running in the house!"

"We're not in the house!" the second voice was higher, and slightly imperious. "We're in the street!"

"Right I've had enough of your cheek, young lady! Get over here!"

"Kay!" the muffled voice repeated. "Get off me! I can't breathe!"

"Are you calling me fat?" the girl demanded, getting off her companion and dusting herself down. "How dare you be so rude to a lady!"

"I never said you were -" the boy prised his face off the dirt enough to glare calculating. "Ooo, you're just messing with me, aren't you?"

"Indeed I am," the girl smirked, her face dropping into a confused frown, as she caught sight of what looked like a flat, furry snowball. "What the-?"

Adrian's eyes resembled the traditional anime swirls at this stage, and thus he did not really register the curious human children peering over him, until after he opened his mouth.

"...get the licence plate... I will sue..."

Both children gasped.

"He can talk!"

Interestingly, it was the boy who got over it quickest, and Adrian found himself being cuddled to a sweaty shirt.

"Awesome! I've always wanted a magic cat!"

"Aide what are you doing?!" the girl hissed. Her eyes had been wide in astonishment, and now narrowed in calculation. "You don't know what he is! I heard Leonwaltz uses magical cats now to spy on people!"

Feeling his bones starting to knit themselves back together, Adrian shook his head to clear the cobwebs, just long enough to register the girl's words. "Whaa... no! I'm not a spy!"

While Aide simply looked delighted to hear more words coming out of his new pet, the girl was still eyeing him with distrust. "That's exactly what a spy would say!"

"Kay!" Both children whirled at the voice. A formidable looking woman stood in the doorway, clearly the one who had warned them both against running earlier. "Get over here this instant!"

Both children wisely legged it, carrying a protesting Adrian with them.

"Hey!" the Librarian groaned as he was bounced against the boy's chest. "I swear if this isn't somehow relevant to the plot, I'm calling bullshit!"

OOO

"You have _got_ to be joking!"

Harriet's brow furrowed into a scowl at the implication that she would joke at a time like this. "No, Michael, I'm perfectly serious."

From behind her pile of books and scrolls, littering the desk in the main reading room, Runoa arched an eyebrow at the conversation before going back to her equations.

"You can't seriously expect us to trust the woman who's been trying to kill us for a season and a half?" the Chief Agent objected. Harriet was relieved that she only had to deal with him and her second in command. She had ordered Valerie, Rhia and Aster to remain with the unconscious Society agents. Probably for the best, given that the last time Aster had been in Runoa's presence, the former Librarian had been torturing her.

"I don't expect you to trust her," Harriet corrected, as the Fourth Wall gave a feeble little wobble in response to Michael's words. "But do you have any better ideas to defeat Divinity? This will work!"

She could see Michael's vivid and painful memory of just how dangerous the rogue Sovereign was, warring with his deeply ingrained hatred of the sixth Librarian.

"Much as it pains me to agree with any of you," Runoa put in smartly from the desk. "And believe me, it does – your leader is right, Michael. I created Immaculation from scratch… therefore, I have the knowledge and ability to create a means to reverse it. And I _will_ reverse it. Even I am not so arrogant that I will not admit that I've created something that I cannot control."

"See?" Harriet gestured. "We'll work on the formula, and the action of research and progress should be enough of a jumpstart for the Library to move itself out of stasis in Development Hell. Once we have the formula to reverse Immaculation, we only need a spellcaster to implement it, and then Divinity will be gone. We will of course still have to deal with Crickette…"

"It sounds good on paper," Michael interjected. "But there's still the matter that our enemy is in our home! Remember what happened last time?"

"Do you think I've forgotten that?" Harriet snapped. She quickly reigned her temper in. She needed her co-leaders, and her two friends, on her side, and blowing up would not help her. She turned to Tash, who had been uncharacteristically silent since she had first spotted Runoa.

"Do you trust me?" Harriet asked bluntly, fixing both her subordinates with a piercing look. Michael's complaints died in his throat, and he was left choking on his own tongue. Tash's response however was instant.

"Always."

"Then trust me now," Harriet beseeched. "This will work."

Michael gave a heavy sigh, but he knew that he was beaten. Tash chewed on her lip nervously.

"I think it will too," she admitted.

"Ugh… alright," Michael huffed. "But I'm staying by her side for as long as she's in the Library. Make sure she doesn't try any funny business."

As he said it, a tentacle of Darkness weaved out curiously for a look. Runoa seemed unfazed by the threat.

"Then if you're going to stay here," she said. "You can make yourself useful and fetch the three thick green books from the top shelf over there. Quick sharp."

With a smile at having got her way, Harriet shrugged at Michael, who groaned and resigned himself to the job of muscle.

"Now, I also need books from the spiritual wing," Runoa announced. "The second largest room – I will need everything related to energy manipulation."

Tash stepped forward. If she was at all uncomfortable with addressing Runoa after the number of times that they had come to blows, she gave no sign of it. "As assistant Librarian, I believe that is my job. Give me the names and titles and I will fetch them."

Runoa obliged, and Tash vanished off with a flashstep, rustling pages on the desk and almost knocking over the ladder that Michael was positioning next to the tallest shelf. The Darkness, ever unhelpful in these situations, had clearly refused to lower itself to fetching books for him, and had retreated.

"You know," Runoa said musingly from behind her mountain of books and scrolls. "You're not nearly as daft or scatty as other Sues would have me believe, Harriet."

Harriet's eyes narrowed as she tried to discern whether this was a compliment or not. "…thanks, I think… can I get anything to assist you?"

For the first time since waking up, Runoa allowed herself to smile. "A cup of tea would be most appreciated, dear. And then you can come here and cross reference for me. I do not intend for developing the counter spell to take half as long as the original did."

OOO

"Ow! Watch the tail!"

"Sorry." The dark, scraggly tormentor gave him a sheepish smile, and put the rest of the rope away.

"Duncan!" Kay whined. "You're not supposed to apologise to the prisoner!"

"Sorry," the boy said again, contritely. Behind him, Aide was observing the scene uncomfortably.

"I don't think the rope is really necessary, Kay," he said, scratching his head, and wincing as his fingers snagged a knot of black hair. "Or the cage…"

Adrian snorted. It was not much of a cage – it was an old storage crate, with string twisted between the slats to block the spaces in between. In the shadows of the little backstreet, it had been all they had been able to find. It was also not rope tied around his paws. They had used all of the string on the cage, and Duncan was now securing him with a ball of wool that he had borrowed from his older sister.

Said sister, who was larger and formidable than any of them, gave the small boy a glare. She was older than all of them by about four years, and acted every bit of it. "We can't take any chances, Aide! He's clearly a spy!"

"I'm not a spy!" Adrian wailed, but they had stopped listening to his protests a while ago.

"Being able to talk doesn't necessarily make him a spy," the fifth member of the group, a short dumpy boy with a large spot on his nose, commented. "He might just be using shapeshifting magic."

"You can't shapeshift into a creature that's smaller than you, Pieter!" Duncan's sister groaned. "It's impossible! Everyone knows that!"

It was pretty clear from Aide and Duncan's faces, that they had not known that. Kay however, nodded along in agreement.

"Maybe he's a Blade Dancer!" Aide suggested, excitedly. "They're magic!"

"Blade Dancers don't turn into cats, Aide!" Kay snorted. "Their magic is completely different!"

"How would you know?" the boy challenged his friend. "You ever seen one?"

Kay's eyebrows met in a scowl. "Well… no, but it's obvious! They have their special weapons, don't they? They don't turn into creatures. And like Alma said – they'd still have to turn into a bigger animal."

She glanced hopefully at Alma, but the older girl just rolled her eyes.

"If he is a spy," Duncan said. "We should really take him to the temple. They'll know what to do with him there."

"And have him gain all the temple secrets?" Kay scoffed. "I don't think so! No, we need to get information out of him, and then we can take it to the temple without him!"

"And… if he is just a cat that can talk?" Pieter asked.

"I want to keep him," Aide muttered. "He's cute! And I don't think he means harm. He doesn't feel bad."

Alma rolled her eyes. "Don't be stupid, Aide. You can't feel when people are good and bad. That's impossible. People do this thing called lying – it's a wonderful skill."

"Did you get dumped recently, by any chance?" Adrian asked.

"Shut up!" Alma barked, a flush of colour coming to her ruddy cheeks.

"Look!" Kay interrupted. "Let's just question him and get it over with! It's pie night tonight! Since I work at the temple, I think I should lead the questioning."

"But you don't work at the temple yet," Duncan said, apparently confused. "You only handed in your application for disciple training two days ago."

Kay gave him a glare that sent him cowering. "Oh yeah? And what did you sign up for in the end?"

Duncan looked down at the crate, and then at his feet. "Woodwork."

"Can I go now?" Adrian asked, hopefully. Kay glared.

"No! We're not done interrogating you!" 

"You haven't even started interrogating me!" Adrian objected. "You just assumed that I was guilty and tied me up in a really rubbish cage!"

"Hey!" Duncan whined. "Don't be mean! I did the best I could!"

"And for the millionth time," Adrian did not break his stride. "I'm not a spy!"

He finished his speech with a 'so there' expression on his face, and sat back on his haunches to see their reaction. Pieter and Aide seemed to both be on his side (or at least, did not believe him guilty of any wrongdoing). Duncan was still pouting, while his big sister huffed. Kay on the other hand, did not look convinced.

"We can't trust that!" she said. "There's too many of them around! Looking for secret weaknesses about our Gods! Trying to tell other kingdoms where best to attack us!"

"That makes no sense!" Adrian spluttered. "I don't even know which kingdom I'm in!" he turned to Aide, who at least seemed willing to help. "Which kingdom _am_ I in, incidentally?"

"Ummm… Arnwell," Aide responded, a little confused as to how anyone could not know where they were.

"Thank you," Adrian said. "You're being super helpful." Actually, it did not help him at all. Arnwell had only ever been mentioned in passing so far in Phoenixia's series, and while he could name the relevant Gods that the kingdom backed, and had a vague idea as to which other kingdoms were considered allies and enemies, it was still very little to go on. He needed to be careful.

"Aide!" Kay stamped her foot. "Stop giving the spy information!"

"I don't think he's a spy!" Aide protested. "A spy would know exactly where he is!"

"Oh, please!" Kay snorted. "He's obviously lying! How could he not know where he is! We're in the dead centre of the kingdom! If he lived here, he'd know where he was! I say we torture him until he tells us which kingdom he comes from!"

"Are you going to eat him?" Pieter asked.

"What?" Kay spluttered impatiently. "Why would you even ask that?"

"Well if we're assuming the authority of our future careers," Pieter said with a pointed look at her. "As a future ranger, the harming of animals unless it's for food, goes against my code of conduct."

Kay groaned. "We're not going to actually hurt him! We have other ways of extracting information!"

"Like what?" Adrian drawled. "Bore me to death?"

"No!" Kay was getting very wound up. "Water torture! Tickling! Making you listen to Aide's singing! We have many ways to make you talk, kitty man!"

Adrian faceplanted as best he could in his confinement. Trust Phoenixia's characters to be bloody obstinate!

"We've been sitting here for an hour!" Duncan whined. "Can we please just do something with him? My butt is going numb!"

Rubbing her forehead, Kay nodded decisively. "You know what, Duncan. You're absolutely right. Let's just do this. Alma, where's your poking stick?"

The 'poking stick' was actually Alma's walking stick. As she raised it, Adrian rolled his eyes.

"Your torture technique is to poke me to death?" he asked, as deadpan as possible. "Please. My girlfriend pokes me every day to wake me up from cat naps."

Alma grinned. "Really? Does she poke you with sedative?"

The end of her walking stick flipped up like a ship's porthole, and she twisted the handle so that it formed a trigger. Glinting from within the barrel, Adrian caught the distinct whiff of chemicals, and the silvery glint of a dart. Without a second thought, he morphed back into human form, not eager in the least to sample whatever cocktail of drugs she kept loaded in that gun.

It turned out to a poor idea. As he shifted, his head crunched painfully against the thick wooden slats, and stars exploded across his vision. The crate buckled and split against his body, and he burst free, head ringing and chips of wood prodding through his shirt. The kids shrieked and ran, and one of Alma's darts was fired in panic, but Adrian blurred into flashstep and the dart sailed harmlessly away. Not breaking his magical speed for a minute, he vanished from the alley.

He managed to get two streets away before sagging against a wall for a breather. His leg was throbbing – changing back and breaking free of the crate had aggravated the wounds from Divinity. Worst of all though, his head was spinning like Combee after sugar. He needed food and water, and a very long nap.

"This was such a stupid idea," he muttered to himself. And it was. What had he been thinking? He should never have entered the city. He should have gone back to Development Hell straight away.

But that nagging was there and it was stronger than ever. It was telling him to watch those children. The plot was slowly converging on them, and he needed to watch it…

He groaned. He had no reason to stay and watch them! They had tried to poke him with a walking stick full of sedative!

He should leave.

He _had_ to leave…

… _please_ someone let him leave?

Giving up with a sigh of frustration, Adrian morphed back into a cat, tried to push the pain into the back of his head, and began wobbling back towards the house he had seen Aide and Kay come from earlier. If he was going to hang around here, he was going to try and stick close to the kid who didn't seem to want to torment small animals.


	2. Chapter 2: Nothing Shines

**Insert Indefinitely Postponed End of Season Finale Here**

 **Chapter 2: When He Nothing Shines Upon**

"We've been sitting here for hours!" Emily whined loudly. "I've finished four drawings and drafted an entire thiefshipping oneshot – I'm bored!"

"Mmm… it's also about the millionth time you've told us," Kuroneko commented.

"Can I read your oneshot?" Creation asked hopefully, pausing in her latest drawing to reach out a hand. Groaning, Emily handed her sketchbook over, and gave an overly dramatic huff as she flopped down onto her back and stared up at the sky.

It was amazing how quickly you could tire of activities, even with several sketchbooks and Emily's bag of tricks. Aramayis was seated in meditation close to the end of the row – presumably ready to jump into action if Adrian reappeared from his box. Kuroneko was continuing her repetitive motion with her fan blades, and Emily was positive that they were sharp enough to slice through diamond by now.

This left Emily with only the two Sovereigns for company, and even that was rapidly growing stale. They had whiled away the first hour by playing Yu-Gi-Oh! (Creation had won two matches, and Emily three), and whiled away the second with Creation bringing clothes to life from her sketchbook and making Harmony and Emily try them on (Harmony was still sporting an enormous fascinator, while Emily had two new waistcoats). Creation had taken a little nap after all of this activity, leaving Emily to amuse herself with her own distinctly non-magical sketchbook. Harmony was humming a tune under her breath as she examined two deadly looking sharp swords, which Emily was sure used to belong to Elegance once upon a time.

"This isn't bad," Creation commented, sounding a little as though she were trying to fill the silence, as she skimmed the raunchy yaoi. "Are you like the rest of the Society and want to be an author?"

Emily snorted. "Nope. You're being kind. I can manage a oneshot, but anything longer than that and my creativity breaks down."

Creation shrugged. "You never know. You can already draw – you could illustrate your own stories and make a fortune. You could get Adrian to teach you if it's something you wanted to pursue."

"Adrian doesn't write," Emily stated absently. "He reads. He collects. But he doesn't write."

"Seriously?" Harmony's humming broke off and gave way to surprise. "All that literature around him, and he doesn't feel any compulsion to do it himself?"

Kuroneko chuckled, examining the edge of her fans with a critical eye. "He likes to joke that when Phoenixia was created, the bit of his mind that had writing skill went to her – that's why the only bestsellers coming out of the Library are hers."

She glanced pointedly over her shoulder, where the small wooden box still sat innocently a few rows down.

"The only thing Adrian has ever written was a very long report on the speed of paint drying," Emily commented. "Which in fairness, was surprisingly engrossing."

Kuroneko blinked. "Oh yeah... we didn't hear a peep out of him all summer. It was very peaceful." Seeing the curious Sovereigns, she elaborated. "It was a summer where we had barely any Counter Guardian missions, so to stop us all getting bored, we took up hobbies, or gave ourselves projects."

Aramayis smiled, indicating that he had not been as deeply disconnected from reality as he had seemed. "Oh yes... that was when I took up knitting. I made an entire sweater and matching reindeer hat."

Creation struggled to hold back her laughter, and Emily raised an eyebrow.

"What did you do?" she asked the feline Counter Guardian. "Scratch bedposts?"

Folding her arms over her ample chest, Kuroneko mumbled something under her breath.

"Come again?" Harmony cocked an ear in her direction.

"She built an entire scale model of Buckingham Palace out of Duplo," Aramayis said, causing all three women to crease up. Kuroneko scowled at her fellow Counter Guardian, and walked away, swishing her fans angrily around her.

"Saito took up gardening," Aramayis continued, stretching his arms above his head before amending. "Or to be more accurate, he started growing his own poisons... and a surprisingly lucrative marijuana crop. I think some of them are still in Phoenixia's garden – she would care for them when he was busy. Phoenixia finished her third Blade Dancer novel, and started another – that one where the protagonist was a kleptomaniac. Vergil became an internet troll. I believe that ninety percent of the material on 4Chan is his doing..."

"Good heavens, you're actually human," Emily drawled. "Doing normal things like hobbies."

"That hurts, Emily," Aramayis informed her cordially.

"Yeah?" The auburn haired young woman mirrored Kuroneko's actions, and folded her arms across her own chest. "Well so did telling us that we're not worthy to hang round with Adrian."

The Counter Guardian signed and settled back against a box. "Kuroneko, Saito and the other Counter Guardians have their reasons for their opinions. You'll understand someday… when you've lived long enough."

"I disagree," Harmony put in, surprising everybody – she had wisely stayed out of the arguments until now. "I'm not as old as the Counter Guardians – I had just counted my two hundredth year when Runoa found me – but balance cannot be achieved by solitude. You must be connected to the world in order to understand it, and achieve peace within it."

Aramayis smiled. "Wise words… but you would be hard pressed to change the minds of my colleagues, after all that they have seen."

Harmony tilted her head. "You have seen no more or less than them, and all it took was one simple fae to realign your balance."

The Counter Guardian had the decency to blush, and Emily and Creation snickered into their hands.

"They will find it," Harmony continued, and Emily felt the tiniest tingling in her skin that indicated the activation of Harmony's powers. "Everyone finds it eventually."

She sounded so certain that everybody fell silent, and went back to their tasks without a word of objection. Harmony was smiling, her eyes turned skyward, content and happy with her insight, and Emily was suddenly struck by the notion that she was in the presence of someone deeply spiritual. She wondered who Harmony had been before Runoa had taken her, and turned her into a Sovereign. There was no doubt that she was powerful on a different level to the other Sovereigns, and Emily admired her a lot more for that. She just felt contempt for people like Order and Purity, but Harmony's belief in Runoa's goal was tempered by her own beliefs – Emily could respect that.

There was a tug at her sleeve, and Creation passed her her sketchbook back. Opening the page, pressed flowers exploded from the paper where Creation's doodles had taken life. Chuckling, the Society agent selected a delicate white freesia and tucked it into the back cover.

The serenity of the moment was shattered as the row of boxes behind them exploded into splinters. The projectile was Kuroneko, who crashed into the box that represented the Library, and peeled slowly off like a wet towel before coming to a battered heap on the floor. Emily's instincts after two years of running were to go for her supersoaker, and she swore when she remembered that she did not have it.

" _When the blazing sun is gone,"_ a voice crooned around them like a creeping mist. " _When he nothing shines upon."_

Boxes around them began to erode, their remains swirling up into the sky like the contents of a tornado. Everyone shielded their eyes, glancing where they could through the debris for any sign of their attacker.

" _Then you show your little light. Twinkle twinkle all the night."_

Over the building roar of the winds of destruction, Emily heard Creation give a piercing shriek as her skin began to peel off her hands and face, blood, tissue and muscle shredding and joining the swirl above. Her sketchbook tore itself to pieces and scattered to the wind.

" _Twinkle twinkle, little star-"_

Flesh was peeling away from bone and eyeballs, until with a distant snap of somebody's fingers, Creation's body burst into a shower of red, which splattered over Emily and Harmony's new clothes.

" _How I wonder what you are."_

Harmony let out a scream that Emily would never have thought possible of her, her bloody hands gripping her hair as she sank to her knees. She was staring at the spot where Creation had vanished, eyes wide, terror and grief bursting out of her in a noise that made the hair's on Emily's neck stand on end far worse than the appearance of Divinity a few rows away. With another snap of the Sovereign's fingers, the winds died, leaving a fine mist of blood and wood to come raining down on all of them, staining their clothes and hair with even more death.

"Oh," Divinity said, her eyes widening in surprise as though she hadn't noticed just how filthy the area was. "What a mess you've made here."

Aramayis was up, flying at the Sovereign, fist ready for the first punch. Divinity blocked with lazy ease, as Kuroneko finally regained enough of her wits to follow up with her own attack. Emily did not pause to see if they hit – she scrambled up to Harmony, and wrapped both arms around her.

"We need to go!" She was not sure where. There were no plotholes in Development Hell. She had a half formed idea about jumping into one of the boxes and waiting the fight out – but Harmony seemed incapable of breathing, let alone moving. Her wide blue eyes were vacant, and Emily swore, as Aramayis was tossed somewhere close to her head.

"Come out come out, little songbird," Divinity called, brushing Kuroneko's wind scythes off like they were a breeze. "I want to make you sing! _Then the traveller in the dark..."_

Harmony's voice seemed to break, and her screams became soundless, as she clapped her hands over her ears, and screwed her eyes closed. Beneath their feet, the ground cracked and shards of rock began to split and crumble as it disintegrated into the air. The noise pounded against Emily's ears like a cascade of hail stones.

An odd, warm glow suffused through her, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a soft ray of light, hazy like a lighthouse through fog.

 _The Library!_ She realised. _It's leaving! The plot is moving again!_

"… _thanks you for your little spark."_

Divinity was leering down at them with a smirk, before Aramayis body-tackled her and sent her crashing back through the rows of boxes. Several of them cracked with a splintering noise. The world gave another wrench as the ground tore itself apart even further. A large cavernous crack was creeping its way toward her again, and the twisting whirlwind started again, chunks of stone and boxes rising up into the storm.

"Go!" the Counter Guardian was yelling through the wind, but Emily did not need telling. Wrapping her arms around Harmony's waist, she heaved. The Sovereign might have been trim, but she was not light, and she offered no assistance at all. A wall of debris rose up in front of her as if to cut her off, ground and dirt flying up into the air as they shredded themselves free. Divinity's twister was weaving its way around like a drunken snake, ripping up stories where it went, and stones stung at Emily's skin and eyes. Already she could see the hopeful glow intensifying – in a few moments, the Library would leave Development Hell, and they would be stuck there.

" _He could not see which way to go."_

"Wait!" Emily found herself shouting, as she heaved Harmony along another step. "You left some main characters behind!"

" _If you did not twinkle so…"_

Whether the Library heard her ridiculous pronouncement, or not, Emily would never know. Her arms were aching, and sweat was starting to bead up and down her back. As another blow sent Kuroneko crashing dangerously close to the chasm in the ground, she finally clasped one hand on the door of the box. It was searing hot to the touch, but Emily squeezed the handle, feeling the burn imprint itself into her palm as she did, and thrust it open. With another heave, she flung herself and the limp Harmony in through the door, and kicked it shut on the battle behind her.

The Library was dark, and the shadows seemed to have a life of their own. Already Emily could feel her head swimming as they tried to reach into her mind like gentle fingers and send her off to sleep. It warred with the blinding pain in her hand, and she shook her head sternly, choosing to succumb to the burn instead. She'd rather have pain right now. The magic was weakening. The Library was leaving. She had to stay awake...

Harmony was hyperventilating into the floor where Emily had thrown her. She did not even seem to have noticed that they had moved. Bits of dirt had matted themselves to the blood staining her hair and dress. She had lost her fascinator somewhere along the way. They both looked as though they had been to the world's filthiest abattoir.

"Harmony?" Feeling shaky, Emily grabbed the Sovereign with her good hand and tried to bring her round. "Harmony, look at me?"

Her efforts did not seem to work, and Emily took a moment to check where they were – the monitor room – and swiftly she located the jumbo sized first aid kit stored in a drawer underneath the desk. First things first, she thought, locating one of the freeze gel packs. The burn on her hand was raw and shiny, and there was a distinctive swirly imprint, with an ornate L and A intertwined within – the insignia of the Library Arcanium. Squeezing the gel to activate it, she pressed the pack against her hand. It was blissfully cold

With her own injury stable for the moment, she set to the next task – the gas bottle strapped beneath the desk. Carefully, wincing at the pain in her hand, she tried to secure the mask around Harmony's face, but the Sovereign thrashed violently away, her screams becoming audible again. Emily wished that they kept tranquilisers in the first aid kits, and she shook her head as her mind began to wander again.

There was a monumental crash, and a shock seemed to pass through the entire infrastructure. Emily crashed onto her back, and Harmony seemed to jolt out of her screaming, her breathing going back to a ragged, irregular pattern. Cautiously, Emily leaned over and strapped the mask carefully to her face. This time, the Sovereign gave no resistance, as the o2 began to steam up the plastic.

"What was that?" Emily whispered to herself. The Library was far too quiet with no agents running around. But as she listened, there was a faint hum of electricity, and with a flicker of static, the computers began to fire up, one at a time. They were sluggish at first, but as Emily watched they started to pick up, programmes coming back online, and lights beginning to strengthen through the gloom. The shadows that had teased her mind began to withdraw, and the youngest Foxblade found herself laughing, as the sounds of life began to fill the building around her.

OOO

"They're getting closer."

Adrian yowled, and fell off his perch. A stray pot clattered noisily around him as he landed on all fours on the kitchen counter. A smirk met his disgruntled look.

"Warn a guy next time!" he snapped, his bristling fur settling back down again. The mischievous grin got wider.

"But you're not a guy – you're a cat," came the pointed reply. Adrian's ear twitched.

"And you're a brat," he replied, turning his back on his tormentor. With a wriggle of his butt, he jumped back up onto the lowest shelf, and began to climb his way back up to his listening point.

"I'm sixteen," came the disgruntled response. This was a lie – the big sixteen was still a month away.

"Still a brat," the Librarian replied without missing a beat. "Now hush!" Reaching up with his front paws pressed against the wall, he tilted his head and laid one ear flat against the wooden ceiling. Next to him, Aide knelt on the counter, and imitated him with a glass tumbler.

The trouble with unfinished fandoms, Adrian thought to himself, was that they had a very long distance relationship with linear time. The blob of potential energy had not solidified yet, and thus weeks and sometimes months could slip by like wet clay sliding out from between your fingers; which was how his owner had gone from a scruffy kneed boy of eight, to an obnoxious teenager in what felt like no time at all.

"Who's in tonight?" said boy whispered. There was no chance of being overheard down here, but they both felt more like spies if they pretended that they could be discovered at any moment.

"The Marley boys," Adrian reported. "Dollard senior and junior are here, but they haven't started anything. That Blade Dancer you like is back again."

"Sierra?" Aide sounded surprised. "I thought she'd gone back to Camden."

Adrian smirked. He hadn't believed that rumour for a second. He knew just what that Blade Dancer's moves would be thanks to Phoenixia's last novel.

"There are three refugees from Corkport," he added. "And a load of traders came with them. You might want to listen. It sounds pretty bad."

Aide's family tavern was always noisy. In the morning, boarders were turfed out to continue their journey's, horses were saddled in preparation for the road, and suppliers arrived, rattling their heavy handheld and mechanical carts of produce up to the back door, and hammering on it with tired, swollen fists. During the day, Aide's mother bellowed from room to room, ordering her miniature army of family and staff to clean the bedrooms, sweep the public areas and "get that bloody cat away from the oven before I lock him in there!"

Not that she ever would – Adrian had gained a reputation as an excellent mouser (using vermin-repelling spells around the property wasn't cheating, he repeatedly told himself).

When evening fell, the noise did not. Boots stamped against the wooden floorboards as patrons rocked with laughter, ales and bitters slopping down like monstrous raindrops, and sending the poor Librarian scurrying for cover. People argued over the price of rooms, and at least once a week a fight would break out, sending him darting back to the safety of the kitchen.

He liked the tavern – as with any fantasy story, it was the best place to soak up information, and as the biggest trading city in the kingdom, Patrice had no shortage of gossip to spread. It was easy to sit nearby and wash his paws inconspicuously, while rich merchants sat above and complained about the price of livestock and luxuries. He listened to tales of the escalating violence in the nearby kingdoms, placing where they were in the series' canon, and watching as the web of war slowly began to tighten around Arnwell and her allies.

It was one such story that had currently gripped the guests that night. In the middle of the night, two of the Gods had come to blows in the sea just off the coast of Arnwell, sending waves as tall as skyscrapers crashing into the land. Villagers from the coast had scarpered at the first sight of them, and now a flood of refugees were moving inland, and traders were complaining about the impact this would inevitably have on the price of seafood.

"Won't be long till we start feeling the brunt of it," Aide concluded grimly, sitting back down, with his legs dangling over the edge of the counter. Adrian frowned, for that had been exactly what he was going to say. Aide had reason to worry however – in a few months, he would finish his apprenticeship and become a cadet in the city guard, and then he would be the first to see the homeless struggling up to the crater with their meagre belongings. Adrian could not help but feel a jolt of sympathy for the kid. It wasn't a pleasant task.

"One way or another, war always touches everybody," he chose to say instead. A single black eyebrow lifted at him.

"If you're going to pretend to be a cat, you should stop sounding so worldly," the youth advised, dryly.

"I am a cat," Adrian replied automatically, whiskers twitching.

"Uh huh..." The other eyebrow joined its mate. Both teenager and Librarian knew that the lie was tissue thin, but neither of them commented on it. It was the same routine they had followed since the day Adrian had settled himself in the home, and Aide knew he would probably never get answers – didn't stop him from trying though.

A certain floorboard creaked, and Adrian's ears swivelled towards the staircase. "Someone's coming," he warned, before scuttling away to hide behind a casserole dish.

Aide had just enough time to scramble back onto the stone floor, before the set of shoes appeared at the top of the stairs. The feet attached to them moved jerkily as though their owner had forgotten how to walk properly. As the slender body slid into view, both hands remained clenched on the wooden handrail, knuckles as white as their face.

Aide could not disguise his surprise. "Kay?"

Adrian was just as astonished. Kay and Aide remained best friends, even as the inevitable challenges of adolescence and training had conspired to put some distance between them. As with all of Aide's friends, Adrian had hidden during her infrequent visits, and she remained completely unaware that the talking cat they had encountered in the streets that day had never left Patrice at all.

The young woman, shaking with each jerky step, sank into a stool. Her clothes were orderly as always, but her ginger hair was escaping its braid as though she had slept on it. Adrian did not think he'd ever seen the outspoken girl look so physically and mentally unnerved.

It took three shots of Redweaver gin before Kay was able to speak again.

"Death," she whispered, her voice as thin as paper.

"Death?" Aide asked, obviously lost. There was a ring of purest black running through the irises of Kay's green eyes, and Adrian gulped. Kay was still a Disciple – she was far too young to be getting visions from the Gods.

"Una," she whispered, her right hand reaching for the bronze bracelet around her other wrist. "She showed me Death..."

And with those cryptic and dark words, she dropped her empty glass on the floor and started to weep.

A familiar sensation began to prickle the back of Adrian's neck, like an old clock that was slowly starting to tick again. The plot had begun. And below him, the protagonist sat, helplessly rubbing his friend's shoulders, as she struggled to breathe through messy sobs.

" _Well..._ " Adrian thought to himself. " _That can't be good..."_

OOO

"The spell is breaking!" Harriet cheered, throwing her arms around Michael and pulling him into a dance. The Chief Agent squawked, as he was flung into a stack of documents, sending them cascading like fat flurries of snow.

"Yes, how thrilling," Runoa drawled, her right hand flipping pages of her current book over, while her left hand scrawled calculations in an incomprehensible set of runes. "Are you going to come and check my maths for me, Harriet, or shall I put the music on for you both to tango?"

Harriet hastily dropped her agent to the ground half way through a dip, before clapping her hands together. "Of course, you're right! We need to let the others know! Michael!" she snapped a finger at her prone underling. "Call Valerie – tell her the good news!"

And she bustled back to the pile of sums, leaving Michael to pick himself up with a wince. He gave a startled yelp as he was almost bowled over again in the doorway.

"Michael!" Emily bounced on the carpet and leaped up to fling her arms around his neck. "You're awake!"

"Uhh…" A little tired of his host being abused like this, the Darkness obligingly released a tentacle to prise the young woman off him. "I'd love to say I missed you Em, but I was asleep so I kinda didn't notice-" His eyes went wide. "Holy shit! What happened to you?"

Harriet rounded on the scene, fear searing its way into her heart as she watched Emily bat the tentacle away. Her daughter's hair and clothes were matted in a cocktail of dirt, wood chips and dried blood. It wasn't the first time in the last two years that Emily had got filthy, but that was an alarming amount of blood, and reminded Harriet uncomfortably of the state the strike team had been in after Star Wars.

"Divinity," she guessed, but Emily was too busy gawking at Runoa to answer. Tash reappeared in the doorway, sweat on her brow, and an armful of books weighing her down.

"Thanks Emily," she groused. "Thank you so much for offering to help after destroying my ribs…"

"Never mind your bloody ribs!" Emily exclaimed, jabbing a finger accusingly at her mother's study partner. "What in the name of all that is good and flammable in this world is she doing here?"

"Making plans." Harriet waved dismissively, while Runoa gave no acknowledgement. "It's all under control. Now what happened in Development Hell? Where are the others?"

Emily huffed. "Gods, where do I start? Divinity showed up and started ripping shit up."

Tash and Michael's swearing came in perfect unison. Even Runoa stopped working to listen.

"Creation's dead." Emily ticked off her fingers. That explained the blood. "Aramayis and Kuroneko are holding Divinity off back in Development Hell. Harmony's in shock – checked out of her brain completely – I left her in the monitor room with a can of oxygen. She's no help to us right now."

"What about Adrian?" Tash asked urgently, and Emily gave her loudest snort to date.

"Oh you'll _love_ this," she said. "The mindless idiot went for a wander, straight into one of the unfinished stories nearby. He jumped right in before we could even stop him. None of us wanted to follow him – I mean who knows how we'd get out?"

"So…what?" Michael asked, trying to wrap his head around it. "He's stuck in some abandoned story?"

"That idiot!" Tash exploded. "What was he thinking?! He must have known it was dangerous!"

"Oh, I haven't told you the best part," Emily said. "The story he jumped into? It was one of Phoenixia's Blade Dancer stories. I'm not sure if he realised that – he just sorta wandered in like he was on drugs. But that was what the label said. I hadn't heard the title before, so I assume it's one she was working on before she became a Sovereign. Blade Dancers… something lines…?"

To everyone's surprise, it was Runoa's turn to interrupt suddenly.

"'Between the Lines?'" she asked, an edge to her voice.

"That was it," Emily snapped her fingers, before narrowing her eyes. "Why? You know it?"

Runoa snorted. "Of course I know it – it's Adrian's home fandom. It's no surprise that he was drawn there."

She bent her head back over her notes, and started scribbling again. It took about ten seconds for her to realise that nobody was moving. The four members of the Anti-Cliché and Mary-Sue Elimination Society were stood there, their faces all frozen in various states of pure disbelief.

"…what?" she asked.

OOO

Ignorance was bliss, Adrian decided, as he nursed his Redweaver gin. It tasted like a rose garden doused in petroleum, and it ignited the moment it hit his empty stomach.

He wasn't a stupid man. Easily distracted, yes (particularly when in his feline form, and in range of shiny objects), but not unintelligent when properly applying himself.

And that was the problem - he hadn't been applying himself. He had been so busy fanboying about Phoenixia's latest work, and exploring all the intricacies that lay embedded in her world, that he had completely failed to notice the obvious.

If he had just thought to look - to properly look - he would have seen it in a matter of seconds. But he never had looked properly. That was the problem. He had just been another character, to him. Another protagonist, who would mature and grow as the story evolved. Getting attached to characters was dangerous - authors were cruel, and Librarians were supposed to leave well enough alone.

Now, as he looked properly (albeit through the haze of Redweaver), he wondered how on earth he could have missed it. Aide had none of his parents' features (adopted parents, he now realised). The familiar cheekbones, the forehead, the nose, the shape of the eyes… Adrian gave a humourless snort. Of course they were familiar. They were nothing more or less than the features that greeted him every time he looked in a mirror himself. And more chillingly, maybe because Aide had dark hair to throw it into sharper relief, he noticed for the first time since the revelation all those years ago, just how much he took after Runoa.

The thought made him shudder, and he drained the rest of his glass. The rose garden caught fire in his stomach again.

More than the identical looks though, he berated himself for his lack of common sense. Why else would he have been drawn into this story over the Library, unless he also called this fandom home? Why else would he have felt that compulsion to stay and watch every time he attempted to leave? Why had he picked Aide, of all people? And why, why the hell, had he not guessed as to what exactly that childish nickname was short for, after so many years?

Why had he not put the pieces together sooner?

As if to taunt him, familiar words caressed his ears, plucked from a long buried memory involving a dinner date in the afterlife.

 _I am your blade sister, now and forever_.

He snorted. He didn't have to be intelligent to figure out what would inevitably happen to him in this story.

Broodily, he licked the last few drops of gin from the side of the glass, and gazed across the tavern at the bar. It was a bit of a risk, being back in human form, but he had a hunch that at this time of night everyone was a bit too wasted to notice. And if he was being honest, he didn't really care. He just wanted a few hours where he could pretend that he didn't know what was coming.

That he wouldn't stay here as the war crept slowly up on Patrice.

That he wouldn't watch Aide – himself – get so torn up (physically, mentally – who knew?) that becoming a Blade Dancer became his only option.

That he wouldn't have to witness in painful detail, the events that had led to him dying.

He didn't know the details. But he knew just how this story would unfold. The plot stretched out into the distance like a spiders thread, snaring all the key players in its grasp. He could see it as clearly as he could see his own feet (which at this level of intoxication, was actually harder than normal). At the centre of the web, was Aide.

Said city cadet was currently at the bar, with a close knit cluster of fellow graduates and regulars next to him. They were having a far better night of it than the Librarian was, safe in the knowledge that they had tomorrow free to nurse hangovers before they officially took up positions as fully qualified city guards of Patrice. Certainly Aide seemed to be making good progress to this goal, and was only making half-hearted efforts to stay on his barstool. Pieter, who had stumbled in an hour ago, smelling of manure, was leaning against him – it was very difficult to tell who was propping up who.

"I wanna sleep with her!" The drunk graduate to Aide's left was currently holding court, half of his current tankard now splashed on the floor. Adrian uncharitably referred to him as 'the bishie' of Aide's circle of friends, due to his immaculate blonde hair and ridiculously shimmery blue eyes that had been the undoing of several women in their cadet class already.

"She's out of your league, Joey," Aide was telling him, in a voice was unnecessarily vehement.

"But not out of yours?" Pieter gave his friend a slightly cross-eyed look. "Didn't you do her?"

Aide made a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a raspberry out of his pursed lips. "That was in the first year of training – doesn't really count."

"I'm drunk!" shouted Copper, two seats down. Usually a sensible and intelligent member of the group, he had kept up the running commentary of his state of intoxication all night at top volume. Aide giggled and listed dangerously to one side of his barstool. He straightened up again quickly, frowning at the figure that pushed their way glumly into the tavern, hat and overcoat not quite straight, as though they had been preoccupied when they had set out.

"Duncan!" Pieter hollered, before seeing his friend's face, as he shoved his way into the barstool next to him. "Oh shit… what happened?"

"Look at his face," Aide said pointedly. "What do you think happened? Hey, Clarissa!" he yelled to the pretty young woman behind the bar. "Redweaver over here… make that a double, actually!"

Duncan managed a weak smile at the promise of alcohol, but the rubbing of his eyes betrayed everything.

"What's the matter with you?" the immaculate Joey seemed a little put out that he had lost the attention, particularly to someone so grim-looking.

"Kay's the matter with him," Pieter lost all subtlety after a few drinks, and patted his friend in what was supposed to be a reassuring manner, but which only sent him slumping soberly into the bar. "She turned you down?"

Duncan gave a feeble sort of nod. Over in the corner, Adrian rolled his eyes, and wondered if it was worth getting up to get more Redweaver. If only they knew that difficult young love would become the least of their worries…

"That hot temple friend of yours?" Joey seemed to be struggling to string faces together with names. "Priestess of Una?"

"That's her," Pieter nodded. The Redweaver arrived, and Duncan necked the whole thing in an instant. That seemed dissolve the blockage keeping his tears back. But rather than the usual outpouring of self deprecation that usually accompanied being shot down, Duncan's thoughts seemed to be focusing in another direction.

"It's not right," he croaked.

"'scuse me?" Aide asked, shaking his head. He was starting to look a bit wobbly on his stool again.

"It's not right," Duncan said. "She's not right. She's different. Ever since she finished training, she's been different. It's like nothing makes her happy. Nothing! She's not supposed to be like that!"

Aide opened his mouth, but after a moment's pause, he closed it again, reluctantly. Adrian knew that in just over four years, he had never told anybody that Kay was having divine visions, and it had not been the last time that the terrified young woman had come knocking on the door of the barracks to curl up next to her childhood friend and weep. As the years had worn on, the visits had become less frequent.

"She's pro'ly just stressed," Joey said. "Isn't it like, really demanding, that job?"

"Ha!" Pieter snorted. "You dunno the half of it. Come to think of it, last time I saw her, she looked knackered – could see it in her eyes. Wonder if she's been getting any rest…"

"Let's get some more drinks," Aide suggested loudly.

"I'm drunk!" Copper chimed in helpfully, as another Redweaver gin was settled before the rejected man. It was another two before he started to look less glum. Meanwhile, Pieter was happily raising toasts.

"To the Patrice City Guard!" he cried. "You guys keep us safe from… from… fires… and forests… and and famine… and pestilence… and bees! Can't forget bees!"

"To bees!" The boys clanked their mugs and drank.

"And specially to you!" Pieter waved a wobbly finger. "Josef Svelthem. You and your mag-fucking-nificent hair!"

Joey seemed to like this praise. "I am mag-fucking-nificent!"

"I'm drunk!" Copper shouted for the twentieth time that night.

"So'm I!" Pieter joined in, lifting his tankard in glee. "We've all got what we want tonight! Well… 'cept you, Duncan. Sorry."

He patted his friend on the shoulder. Duncan sighed heavily, but it was less sullen than before.

"I know what I want!" Joey declared. "I wanna sleep with Cherise! To Cherise and her mag-fucking-nificent legs!"

Another toast was lifted.

"I wanna fight crime!" Aide declared loudly. "Never mind the bees and stuff. I wanna fight crime!"

"But you are fightin' crime!" Joey spluttered. "That's what we just spent four years training for! We're gonna be fightin' crime every day!"

"Lemme finish!" Aide held up a finger, and swayed a little bit with the grandeur of his pronouncement. "I wanna fight crime… with a dragon!"

Joey's cider came spraying out of his nose. He fought to breathe as Pieter cackled with laughter.

"You what?" he demanded.

"Well why not?" Aide demanded. "It'd be so cool to fight crime with a dragon!"

"Dragons aren't real," Copper put in, showing a momentary flash of his usual intelligence as he thumped his friend on the back. "They're like… make believe or summin…"

"How d'you know they're not just flying… really really high?" Aide asked with an imperious air. "Where's your proof?"

"I dunno, I'm drunk!" Copper reminded him, finishing the rest of Joey's cider before it could kill him.

"Well I want to be bestest friends with a dragon!" Aide insisted. "And we will go on crime fighting adventures together!"

"Hey the position of bestest friend is already filled!" Pieter objected, slinging an arm around Aide and hauling him into his side. "No dragon upstages me! I've been your bestie since we were three!"

He got to his feet with a terrible screech of chair leg on wooden floor.

"A toast!" Pieter hollered, thrusting his mug into the air, and sloshing half the contents onto the floor. "A toast to Adrian Spritter – my bestest friend!"

He gave the aforementioned 'bestest friend' a huge, slobbery kiss on the cheek, and Aide finally tumbled off his stood, with an undignified amount of giggling.

Across the tavern, an identical pair of violet eyes watched them from the shadows. There was a scrape of glass on wood.

"A toast..." the Librarian muttered bitterly, raising his empty glass. "A toast... to me."

And with a heavy, choked noise that might have been the beginnings of a sob, his face rested on the varnished wood, and he passed out gratefully.

OOO

"It's just… you can't… this makes no sense!"

Runoa arched an eyebrow at the spluttering Harriet. "Well at least we've progressed to full sentences again… however short they may be."

"How can Phoenixia be Adrian's author?" Tash demanded, rubbing her head between both of her palms. "He existed before her!"

The sixth Librarian gave her a look. "Oh come now dear – has your time running this place taught you nothing? You slide into worlds to arrest Sues at multiples points in their continuity. Fandoms rarely run parallel to each other. How else would the Library contain every story ever created in the past and future?"

She gestured to the room around them, as if to prove her point.

"Why, though?" Emily was thinking aloud. "Nixie wouldn't self-insert Adrian the Librarian into one of her novels. She's not a puppet master – she wouldn't be comfortable having that kind of control over one of her friends like that."

Runoa shrugged. "I never said she put Adrian the Librarian into her story – remember, I left him there as an infant, not a grown man. She might have just intended to write someone based off him – a sort of homage to her best friend, you might say – and got a bit carried away. Characters do that you know. Why would she ever suspect that she were writing the original version?"

"Just hold on a minute," Harriet insisted. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around this. Runoa, are you certain?"

"Of course I'm certain," the former Librarian huffed, apparently insulted that she would doubt her. "I put him there myself. You don't exactly forget the place you gave birth…"

"So what?" Tash asked. "You just walked into a random fandom and dumped him there? But…how could the fandom have even existed if Phoenixia wasn't alive?"

"Honestly, you're not taking this non-parallel time line concept well, are you?" Runoa scoffed. "Worlds are like unshaped blobs of potential. They exist long before their author comes along to shape them. I just picked an untouched blob, and popped him out there. I had no way of knowing that Phoenixia would someday be the author, but paradoxes like that happen all the time. I thought nothing of it."

"So you're saying Phoenixia is Adrian's author?" Michael asked slowly. "Phoenixia… who was born from Adrian's mind in a freak accident involving a stolen megazord… actually created him… before she was even created herself…" He squeezed his eyes shut. "My brain hurts! Too… many… paradoxes!"

Without even looking, Harriet handed her half-drunk mug over to Michael. He'd swallowed two mouthfuls before he remembered that he didn't like tea.

Runoa arched an eyebrow at his behaviour. "Well if you think this little unbreakable paradox is mind bending…"

She was cut off as the Library began to shake again – this time more violently and definitely closer.

"We've got company," Tash groaned, and in the distance, alarms began to shriek. "Emily, Michael, with me. Harriet, you and my future mother in law stay here and do your complicated maths!"

The three of them tore out of the room towards the sound of the disturbance.

"She's not going to call me that forever, is she?" Runoa asked. Harriet shrugged.

"Probably. Come on, we've almost finished building this formula."

OOO

Explosions could mean any number of things to Michael.

But given that all of the Society's mad scientists were sleeping, none of the good things were possible at the moment. And somehow he already had a sneaky suspicion as to just what he would find when he and his sister rounded the corner.

The epicentre of the explosion was the large autobiography room, which at this moment, was also playing host to the front door on the upper level. Michael had never understood why the front door liked to change places too, and had just chalked it up to another of the Library's idiosyncrasies. Right now, he knew that Adrian was not going to be impressed when he got back. Books were on fire, and several bookshelves had been toppled like they had just been hit by a hurricane.

He was about two steps behind Tash, and he skidded to a stop just in time to see feathery white wings engulf her.

"Aneki!" But Tash and Purity were already crashing down through the floor, leaving several oddly shaped holes behind. As another crash echoed below, the balcony above cracked, and a huge portion of it was pulled away, hanging suspended in mid-air by invisible strings.

"Found you!" Life bellowed (Michael wasn't sure why she felt the need to shout - she was barely five metres away) peering through the gap in the floor. With a casual flick of her strings, she tossed the balcony away, leaving it to shatter against a bookcase with a crash. "HEY, RESOLVE!" she hollered at the top of her lungs. "I FOUND ONE!"

Another crash answered in the distance.

It crossed Michael's mind that he should probably explain the situation, but that thought quickly vanished as books began to fly at him from above. He ducked and raced for a bookshelf, yelping as a heavy copy of Katie Price's 'Being Jordan' caught him hard on the elbow.

"Oh come on! I _just_ woke up!" he whined.

A flying set of chairs was his answer, and with a shriek, he bolted out of the door.

"Yeah?" he heard Life respond. "Well I haven't slept for two years! Forgive me having no sympathy!"

The remaining chairs crashed to the floor as the Sovereign gave chase, leaving the room abandoned. Lacking flashstep, Emily skidded into the doorway, her brow frowning at the two huge holes in the architecture, and the general mess left behind.

"Where did everybody go?"

OOO

"What the hell was that?" Rhia asked, as the floor rumbled beneath their feet. Frowning, Valerie could only shrug, though something familiar was prickling on the edge of her senses, and made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

"Hope they're alright," she muttered, gently pressing a hand to Dave's head. Like everyone, he was showing signs of stirring, though two years of slumber was making them all sluggish. Nobody had opened their eyes yet, let alone made a sound, but little signs like the quickening of breath and the twitch of fingers and eyelids gave all the hopeful indications that they needed.

The prickling suddenly amassed into a swarm of jabbing needles, and Valerie's stomach swooped in fear, just a second before the floor burst out from under her feet, and she found herself being tossed upward through a freshly shattered hole in the ceiling. She could hear Rhia shrieking below, but the sound was rapidly vanishing as she burst through floor after floor, some powerful, painful force driving her relentlessly upward. Wood tore to ribbons around her, and splinters shredded at her skin. Seryiu was strapped to her wrist, but she could not see a target to aim it at.

After ten floors, it finally stopped with a final painful slam into the floor. They were in one of the upper levels of the Library, with a cloud of dust swirling and settling around her. Valerie's ribs, and the top of her skull were aching like they'd just been used to batter down a castle door, and everything had a blurry outline to it – her glasses had come off, she realised. The thought alarmed her far less than it should. Instantly her reflexes kicked in and her body set to repairing as much of the bruising as it could.

"And now that those little distractions are far behind us, we can continue our discussion."

Valerie could barely comprehend how Order could be standing above her, in the Library of all places. But there he was, and she only had one reflex when it came to him now. Seryiu burst into life like a lightning bolt and she drew back an arrow. Her concentration was shot, and her arrow lacked the kick that it usually did, but it still send Order dancing out of range, which gave her a precious second to right herself. The room had an uncomfortable swim to it, and she guessed that she probably had concussion.

"Stand and fight." Order's voice was commanding, and the suggestion hit Valerie before she could defend against it. Shakily, she got to her feet.

"Here is where it ends," the Sovereign spoke softly.

As soon as she was standing, Order was moving. She felt rather than saw his punch connect, the explosive wind shredding into her flesh and throwing her back against the wall at the same.

Instinct made her throw her head down and Order's kick exploded the wall behind her, bits of debris raining down along with the hair he had shorn off.

Then Val felt Ari drag her in-between and somewhere else, to hide and heal.

And the pricking at the back of her neck told her Order was coming...

OOO

A fist slammed into skin and cartilage with a sickening crunch. Blood and snot poured from the wound, splashing onto the cobblestones, but the recipient just snarled, her teeth already stained a fresh red.

"How dare you speak to me like that! I am not a whore!"

The fist answered again, this time in her stomach. The gasps and roars of the approving crowd were the backing track to the woman's choked gasp.

"Only because he never paid you!" Her assailant was also red – but this time from fury. Her dress was hanging off one shoulder, where clawed fingers had ripped the bodice. "Then you'd have to admit that you're not as righteous as you like people to think you are! Stay in the fucking temple where you belong, and stay away from our husbands!"

A clawed hand lashed again – this time catching the furious wife on the face. She reeled as the tables were turned and the priestess flipped her and began scratching at her eyes. A child was screaming in the crowd, and several men began shouting advice and encouragement.

Observing from a wall, Adrian shook his head. And people said that women were physically inferior to men. What a joke!

Whistles exploded through the street, and passers-by hurriedly began to clear the buttercross, several backing into market stalls in their rush to get out of the way of the incoming city guard.

"Ladies! Break it up!"

Even with the arrival of the guard, a split lip and a kidney shot were still delivered before the two could be separated. Aide held the struggling priestess in his arms, while Copper and Joey restrained the wife, who was trying very hard to stand and snarl through what had to be excruciating pain.

Sighing, Adrian began washing his paws again, as the spectators dispersed, and the city guard took both ladies to have their injuries seen to. It did not take long for Aide to reappear, a frown on his face. Adrian flinched, and tried very hard not to think about all the times he had worn that expression himself.

He walked purposefully past the buttercross, and turned down the street that would take him directly to the centre of the city crater. Alert, Adrian jumped down from the wall, and followed him, at a careful distance. He knew this path well.

The temple was a tall spire, which reached out of the city to touch the sky. In the upper tiers, the priests lived, awaiting messages from the various deities. On the lower layers the acolytes practiced, and prayed, trying to divine the intentions of the kingdom's Gods, and predict the events to come.

The city administration also worked in the building, trying to manage the current influx of refugees from all over the kingdom. Everyone was jumpy and on edge as day by day more newcomers appeared, begging for a place to live. It was problematic and a source of anxiety, as the city swelled, and everyone became more conscious of how big a target they suddenly were. If he didn't know Phoenixia as well as he did, Adrian would have been sure that she were setting up for a repeat of the city's historic destruction. But Phoenixia was a good author, and she did not repeat plotlines.

The swelling of the city was also a source of additional frustration for Aide and the city guard. More refugees meant more people, which meant more fights – over space, bread, and apparently sexual partners.

As Aide crossed the bridge that took him into the centre of the lake, he stopped suddenly. Crouching at the water's edge, Adrian's ears pricked up to listen.

"Must be an urgent message, to be bringing it during prayer hour." A sardonic voice spoke from above.

On the bridge, Aide paused for a moment before answering, his voice uncertain, and a little awestruck.

"You're Sierra Iphela."

In his shadowed hiding place, Adrian resisted the urge to squeal like a fangirl. A chuckle emerged.

"As if I could be anyone else," she sighed, her voice almost wistful. Curiosity overtook the Librarian, and he peered out to get a better view of the formidable Blade Dancer, and the protagonist of Phoenixia's last novel. She was leaning casually against the side of the bridge, twining a strip of leather into a braid.

"You're here to report more rioting?"

Aide swallowed hard, obviously intimidated begin in the presence of a woman who fought gods for her livelihood. Sierra seemed to find his tongue tied behaviour amusing, and her growing smirk galvanised him back into full and complete coherency.

"A disciple is in the House of Healing on Market Square," Aide reported, in the tone he usually saved for reporting to his superior officer. "We separated her from a fight with a refugee – her lover's wife by the sounds of it."

Sierra's smile became thin and bitter. She boosted herself up onto the wall, revealing a monstrous metallic blue buster sword leaning next to her. Adrian shivered. Even from here, he could sense the magic in that blade that was unique to soul-forging – the dangerous process whereby Blade Dancers split their souls and lifespan in half in order to gain their superhuman abilities, and one of a kind weapons. He had read Phoenixia's last book, and knew the blood that that sword had tasted. No wonder the Blade Dancer looked disappointed at the report.

"Do you realise," she said, twisting a loop with the leather. "That half a world away in Rigeon, there will bit a city guard separating another fight for exactly the same reason?"

Aide's eyes widened. "Is that where you've been for the last six months?"

Sierra chuckled.

"I haven't set foot in Rigeon since the Dawn of Malice," she said, referring to a legendary fight that had happened in Phoenixia's last book. "I don't need to. War is no different there than it is here. Everything lives the same way. Everything breaks the same way."

She jerked another knot into place on the bracelet.

"What do you mean?" Aide asked. Sierra looked directly at him, and Adrian wondered what she was seeing.

"Nothing changes, in a war like this," she said. "When Gods decide to bring about the end, it's only a matter of time before relationships, livelihoods, cities-" Adrian did not need sharp eyes to catch Aide's involuntary stiffness at that last one. "-are blown to dust. People rebuild, Gods destroy and again and again, the cycle continues. If it happens once, it will always happen again – somewhere, somehow."

Her gaze was distant, focusing on a point that not even the Librarian could see. Far from being shaken, Aide seemed to find his courage. "That's a cynical outlook for a Blade Dancer to have." He challenged quietly. "Not everything remains the same. Someday, the war will have to end."

Sierra laughed – it sounded painful.

"As long as there are Gods in this world," she said. "There will always be people willing to go to war over them."

She slid off the wall, and rested one hand on the hilt of her sword. Aide flinched, ready for an upcoming strike – physical or emotional, it was possible he didn't even know which to expect.

"Let me give you some advice, young man," she said, piercing him with midnight blue eyes. "Don't make the mistake of thinking that a war like this will end someday. Even if it did, it wouldn't be long before it started again. The truth is, we've lived in war for so long, I think we've forgotten how to live without it. All we can do, is minimise the damage…and from the way the tide is turning, I think that Patrice will need minimising very soon."

It was possible to see the colour draining from Aide's face. They were equal in height, but he suddenly seemed to shrink at the ominous words. "Is it going to come soon?"

Sierra nodded. "The priests certainly seem to think so by the unsettling amount of praying they've been doing since last night. I guess they've been shown something that they don't like."

There was a chill in the air, which had nothing to do with the wind coming off the lake. Adrian shivered in his bristling fur, and his younger self was not much better.

"So if I were you," Sierra advised. "I wouldn't be offended if they don't seem that bothered by the fact that one of their disciples is in the House of Healing. You're probably going to get a short, terse dismissal from the building."

Aide swallowed. "Actually… I think I might be needed there now more than ever."

Sierra's expression was curious, but the young city guard was already bowing politely to her, and setting off up the bridge at a fast clip. The spire, usually radiating some comforting otherworldliness, suddenly seemed darker and more foreboding.

In spite of his new concern for his past self, Adrian knew he would never forgive himself if he did not do this. Casually, he slunk out of his hiding place, and trotted down the bridge in the direction that Aide had gone. He paused as he approached Sierra, his head tilted curiously to one side. Sierra, who had finally lost interest in the city guard's odd behaviour, saw him and smirked. Cats were among the few creatures in this world who could sense magic, and thus they had a suspicious attitude towards Blade Dancers. Restraining his urge to just turn back into a human and glomp her, Adrian affected a careful skittishness as he approached, before carefully winding around her ankle. Sierra chuckled.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know?"

Adrian froze, his head half nuzzling at her boot. Sierra gave a full laugh that made his tail stand on end.

"None of my business I suppose," she said. "Unless you have ill intentions towards Una. Then I might have to intervene out of courtesy. She and Dierron are allies after all."

Cautiously, Adrian turned his head up to look at her, his eyes going big, watery and innocent in an instant. Sierra's own midnight blue eyes locked on his, and she seemed to study him, clearly not falling for his harmless and cute routine. Unconsciously, Adrian flattened his belly against the bridge. He really didn't want to have a fight with a fully-fledged Blade Dancer. If he didn't kill Sierra while trying to defend himself, Phoenixia would kill him when he came out for cocking up her plot.

"Interesting," she mused, her eyes never leaving his. Adrian wished that he could read minds – Sierra was the master of the poker face. The corner of her lip curled, and with another chuckle, she nudged him towards the temple.

"Go on, kitty. Your master might need help."

Grateful that he was not on the receiving end of that huge buster sword, Adrian darted off down the bridge. How on earth did people like Tash and Harriet get away with glomping their favourite characters all the time? His legs were shaky after just one encounter with his favourite fictional warrior.

Aide was already half way up the temple when the Librarian finally caught up with him. Perhaps heeding Sierra's advice, he seemed to have bypassed the level where incidences were reported and was heading straight for the top. Disciples with bands of polished bronze wrapped around their forearms bearing Una's insignia, passed in groups, chatting in hushed whispers. Aide's eyes followed them long after they had passed him in the corridor, and his pace sped up after each of these encounters, until finally, he reached the familiar room, only seven floors from the top of the temple. He knocked firmly on the door.

Adrian's fur bristled as the seconds ticked by with no answer. Aide's next knock was harder.

"Kay? It's me. I'm coming in."

He retrieved the spare key from his pocket, and let himself in with a swift stride that froze as soon as he was over the threshold. He was so focused, that he did not even notice Adrian skipping in hastily behind his heels. Aide made no move to close the door behind him, as both cat and human nosed the air, and stiffened at an unmistakable coppery tang.

The room was not large this high up the tower, but one wall was nothing more than a huge pane of glass overlooking the lake and city beyond. The comfortable bed was messy, and a simple glass vase had been knocked over from the side table, the flowers laying sadly in the puddle soaking into the carpet. In his furry chest, Adrian felt his heart beat harder against his ribs.

Stepping carefully around the glass, Aide's trembling hand reached out and pulled the adjacent door which lead to the bathroom. The humid air was stifling, and Aide's sharp gasp was lost to the mugginess. Adrian peered around the door and found his own breath stolen in an instant.

The deep square furo-style bathtub was overflowing with a steady drip, puddles of pink water soaking into the towels nearby. Seated inside, Kay's shoulders and head hung limply over the edge, eyes unseeing as they gazed at the ceiling, ginger hair hanging in wet dreadlocks that trailed into the floor. Resting on the edges of the tub, her arms were marred by deep, bloody gashes.

Aide turned and ran, but Adrian barely noticed. He could hear the boy – himself – screaming through the open bedroom door for help, but it made no impact. Aide raced back in, pulling Kay out of the water, checking for breath or pulse as he tried to stem the bleeding with the soaking towels. It did not register to Adrian.

The glassy eyes, green swallowed by purest black, were all that Adrian could see.

OOO


	3. Chapter 3: Little Light

**Insert Indefinitely Postponed End of Season Finale Here**

 **Chapter 3: Then You Show Your Little Light**

The healer's quarters smelt of a strange mixture of brass polish and disinfectant. Adrian fought his gag reflex – he got enough of that with fur balls, thank you very much.

The wooden floorboards did not utter a sound beneath his paws, and he caught sight of his reflection in a tall, brass instrument. It shouldn't have been possible for the bronze colour to make a cat look washed out and exhausted, but somehow it had managed it.

He had been a fool to stay. He should have left the fandom as soon as he had entered. But he had allowed himself to get drawn in, and become attached to the characters – to his past self, so hopeful and naïve. Now he was in too deep to even contemplate bailing. He had to know the outcome – whatever the cost. He had to know what it was that made him who he was.

But more than that, he had grown emotionally fond of them. Not his past self – _he,_ Adrian the Librarian. He liked each and every one of them as a person, and it had nothing to do with the relationships that they all had with Aide. He wanted them to be okay. They _had_ to be okay...

A dark wooden door swung open at the end of the corridor, and Duncan appeared, his eyes rimmed with pink. Opposite him, Pieter and Aide sat, though only the former raised a head to look at him. Crouching behind a dented tank of oxygen, Adrian peered at the small, broken group of friends.

"She won't talk," Duncan's voice was thick, but it was impossible to tell if it was pain or anger. "She's just staring at the ceiling."

"I told you," Aide did not sound as though he were completely aware of everything around him.

"It's not right!" Duncan was pacing now, his fists clenched to one side. "She's not supposed to be like this! She's not supposed to be…" whatever it was he was going to say escaped him.

"What does the healer say?" Pieter's voice was the calmest, but there was still a tightness to it that Adrian had never heard.

Duncan shrugged. "Same as they told Aide – she needs rest while the transfusion finishes. That doesn't fix her though, does it? Doesn't make what's wrong with her right again!"

"It's not something they can fix," seeing the footsteps turn into stamps, Pieter's tone became more calming. "The healers can heal her body, but this is in her mind. It's the mind that makes you want to do something…like this."

None of them were saying it, Adrian realised. And he doubted that they ever would.

"It's that temple," Duncan was growling. "Ever since she went there she hasn't been right. Barely speaks to us, and always being sad-"

"It's not the temple," shoulders hunched over with arms resting on his knees, Aide finally spoke up properly. Feeling two sets of eyes on him, his head dropped back down to face the floor. "Not completely…"

He chewed his lip. If he had had kitty ears at this stage in his life, Adrian knew he would have been flattening them right to his head, because he knew what reaction he was going to get, and he was not anticipating happiness at the end of it.

"What is it?" Duncan asked, tone half hopeful half accusing. "What has she told you?"

Sighing heavily, Aide squeezed his hands together. "She's been having visions."

"Well that was obvious!" Duncan interrupted, throwing his hands up into the air. "Look at her eyes! Black as onyx!"

Aide held up his own hand, and his friend fell obediently silent. "No, I mean she's been having them for years…since we were fifteen. They're from Una – something big is coming for Patrice, and all Kay can see out of it is death. That's why she's so upset."

Pieter was silent – Adrian could practically see the deductions coming together in his head, and the understanding being bridged between seemingly random pieces of information. Duncan however, was far more vocal.

"Why didn't you tell us?!" he was yelling now, drawing some nasty looks from the orderlies down the corridor. "Didn't you think this was something we should know?!"

Aide's gloomy tone suddenly became sharp and angry. "No Duncan, because frankly, it's none of your business what Kay chooses to confide in me."

"I'm her friend too, you know!" the other boy shouted. No one bothered to point out the erroneous word in that statement, because they were all aware that Duncan saw himself as far more than that.

"I never said you weren't her friend," Aide did not shout as Duncan was, but the undercurrent of anger had not gone anywhere. "And neither did she."

"Then why didn't she say anything to me?!" Duncan fumed. "Why did she come sharing her secrets with you, and only you?"

"I have no idea!" Aide finally raised his voice, along with his hands, but it bordered on despair than anger. "Maybe because she knew you'd react like this?!"

"Alright, both of you shut it!" Pieter finally stopped thinking the revelation over to intervene – just as well too, for Duncan looked about ready to punch his best friend in the face. "That's not what's important right now."

Duncan clearly disagreed, but the matron chose this moment to walk past, and hissed at them sternly to be quiet. All three boys bowed their heads in contrition.

"What's important right now is helping Kay," Pieter continued, in a more sensible tone of voice.

"And how do you propose we do that?" Aide snapped, his temper still on edge.

"By supporting her through this," Pieter said. "As best we can. By listening and understanding. That's all we can really do. The stuff in her head…that's probably something she'll have to sort out herself."

"She could leave the temple," Duncan put in. Behind his oxygen tank, Adrian rolled his eyes. Talk about a one track mind.

"That wouldn't work," Pieter said instantly. "The visions won't stop coming just because she's not in the temple – Una has chosen her."

"Well Una can un-choose her right now!" were Duncan a younger man, he probably would have stomped his foot. "She is going to leave the temple and then she'll be happy!"

He stormed off down the corridor, sending the door slamming into a helpless junior healer, who crashed painfully into the wall. He did not stop to help her up. Aide's head sank back down into his hands, and fingers began agitatedly combing his messy hair.

"…he's an idiot," Pieter summarised, getting up from his seat and pacing to the opposite side of the corridor. He slid against the wall next to Kay's door and stood there, propped up with one leg. "What does he think he's going to do? Walk into the temple and tell them she's leaving because he says so?"

There was a long silence, before the young ranger groaned, his head thumping painfully against the wall.

"He's going to walk into the temple and tell them that she's leaving because he says so, isn't he?"

"The temple's not the problem," Aide said quietly.

"No duh! But try telling him that!"

"No, don't you see?" Aide's voice was sharp now. "It's not the visions that's the problem. It's what she's getting them about. All this," he jerked his head towards the door. "Is because of what's going on out there."

Seeing Pieter frown, the city guard let out a frustrated growl.

"The war, Pieter! That's what she's getting visions of. All those refugees pouring into the city – she's seeing every one of them lose loved ones. She's the one watching towns get flattened, and gods slaughtering people for kicks!"

"Yeah I got that," Pieter said slowly. "But…what are you saying?"

It wasn't really a question. Pieter clearly knew exactly where his friend was going with this, but he was clinging to some vague hope that he might be wrong – that Aide might be suggesting something far less drastic.

"I'm saying, that if we want Kay to be happy again, then we need to stop the war," Aide said. From anyone else it might have sounded like such a stupid statement, but Adrian had been watching Aide for a long time now, and he had never sounded more serious. "And there's a way to do that – to stop the Gods from making anyone else die."

There was a long, heavy silence. Behind the tank, Adrian felt his heart beating hard in his chest. He wanted to do so many things. Scream at Aide to do it. Scream at Aide _not_ to do it. Find a way to do it himself. Go in and see Kay, to make sure she was recovering, and to try and get that awful memory of her bleeding into the water out of his head…

"Aide," Pieter finally spoke – he was barely whispering. "That's-"

"Don't!" the young man snarled. "Don't tell me that I'm being crazy. I haven't been more sane in my life. I saw my oldest friend dying today, Pieter, so don't you _dare_ tell me that I'm crazy! I'm never going to stop seeing that – do you have any idea what it was like to walk into that bathroom and see her there? The water was going red, Pieter! It was her blood, and there was nothing I could do…nothing…"

Whatever paralysis had held the tears in suddenly seemed to break, and Aide crumpled forwards into his knees, his shoulders shaking. Adrian swallowed hard, as he realised that his own eyes were swimming. Awkwardly, Pieter walked over and patted him on the shoulder.

"This isn't your responsibility to fix," Pieter whispered. "Please tell me that you understand that?"

"Of course I do," Aide whispered. "But this isn't about responsibility. This is for Kay. Only for her. She says she's seen death – well now so have I. And I don't want to see it again."

"Yeah, but…" Pieter sounded hopeless in the face of such blind logic. "To do that…fighting Gods, and stopping death – you'd be getting hurt. Seriously hurt. You'd be screwing with your lifespan. And that's _if_ you survive the initiation! Una's graces everyone's heard the stories!" He desperately searched for some kind of reason in his friend's eyes. "I'm sorry Aide, but it's stupid."

"It's not stupid!" Aide snapped. "Don't you get it?! Kay's visions stop when the war stops! And we're not going to stop it by guarding the city and splitting up squabbling refugees! She's my friend, and I am going to help her – and I know a better way to do it than by trying to get her to leave the temple! If the fighting stops in the kingdom, then Una has no reason to send any more visions, and Kay gets better. So that's what I'll do – become a Blade Dancer so I can stop the war and the visions!"

That statement, for all it's grand promise, sounded unfinished, and Adrian's body went cold as he realised that he knew just what was running through his past self's mind – though he would never be stupid enough to admit it aloud. To do so would spell certain death.

" _And if I can't stop the war…then I will stop Una herself."_

OOO

When your arms were pinned to your side by a powerful embrace, and your kicking had proved inefficient, there was only one option left.

So it was with a smirk of pleasure that Tash yanked a plothole into existence at point blank, sending herself and Purity tumbling ungracefully through it half way through the second wave of feminism and the modern classical literature wing. They impacted into tarmac with identical crunches of bones.

"Jesus barrel-rolling Christ…" Tash groaned, smacking the white wing draped casually over her body away. Dark sky met her gaze, with skyscrapers encroaching at the sides of her vision. She could be in any fandom in the multiverse – she had not exactly been paying attention when she had pulled the plothole into existence. She rolled onto her feet, hoping for some kind of sign as to where she had landed. Her head was swimming a bit from the impact, but nothing felt broken, apart from most of the skin on her shoulder blades and the back of her dress.

"Language!" The furious angel scolded, rising to his own feet, his wings still flaring dramatically behind him. The leader scoffed at his reprimand, putting a few more cautious steps between her and the Sovereign. She added two more as she got a proper look at his face.

"Well, you look terrible," she concluded. Her balance wavered as she realised that she could step no further back without going off the edge of the building.

"After two long years of waiting," Purity's voice had a hiss to it. "You have finally come back to me for one last fight. And when I win, you and your magic will stay with me forever!"

His eyes rose rapturously to the heavens, before falling back on the Society leader.

"…give it a rest."

The angel blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"Seriously," Tash folded her arms. "Did you take your lines from TVTropes? You couldn't be more cliché if you had a black cape to swish."

She changed her stance, her hands falling on her hips.

"Let me explain how this is actually going to work, Purity," she said. "I'm not in the mood to deal with an annoying subplot right now – especially one like you that makes no sense what so ever. So I'm going to leave you here, go back to the Library, and get back to the actual plot that's been waiting for us for two years."

The angel was flabbergasted. "You can't do that!" he spluttered.

He got a shrug in response. "Why not? Seriously, what is physically stopping me from opening a plothole and leaving this fandom? Maybe picking up a sandwich on the way?" she waved her arms around at the jungle of skyscrapers.

"I am!" the angel seemed to be getting pinker by the second. The leader groaned, and gripped handfuls of her hair.

"No, you're really not," she said. "I guess you were supposed to go after me because I'm one of the leaders – maybe in the hopes that I'd gain some sort of personal character development from fighting you. But I'm not scared of you any more – I stopped projecting my personal fears onto you a few stories back, and without that, you're just a character who wants something from me. And people like that are actually pretty easy to deal with – by turning and walking away."

She spun on her heel, standing poised on the edge of the building. "So this is me, walking away. Bye Purity!"

She stepped cheerfully forward, and plummeted towards the ground. Two stories from the ground, her wings unfolded, and caught the updraft. She soared down two streets before coming to a rest in a quiet alleyway.

"That was so meta," she muttered, lifting her fingers to snap a plothole into existence.

A dustbin crashed into her back and she stumbled forwards into the concrete. Above her the furious angel loomed.

"You don't get to decide when this conflict is over!" he hissed, another dustbin raised in one hand, ice slowly creeping its way over it. "And we are far from over, Phoenix!"

The bin crashed into the ground, sending shards of ice flying, as fire wreathed the alleyway like a furious serpent.

OOO

"Hey!"

Resolve froze mid punch, leaving the poor Library bookcase to slump weakly to the floor. Emily glared at the Sovereign.

"We own doorbells you know!" she shouted. Part of her wondered at the wisdom of antagonizing a being of potentially limitless strength, but it was smothered by anger. She was exhausted. She was covered in blood and bits of what used to be Creation. Her palm was throbbing with every twitch of her hand. And now that they were finally back in the Library after two years of running for their lives, this fucker had the nerve to come into their home and break holes in their fucking wall? She was livid!

The Sovereign rose, gauntlets fully charged, and coming to rest at his side as he eyed up the new arrival.

"You really don't want to get in my way, girl," he warned. Emily wavered for just a moment - after all, he was a Sovereign. Then her eyes fell on the rubble on the other side of the gaping hole in the wall, chunks of concrete and plaster dotted with pale blues and greens. She knew those colours. She had spent hours painting that fresco in meticulous detail.

Her blood boiled.

"Oh it is _on_!"

Resolve slid effortlessly into combat stance, gauntlets charged and glowing with energy he had gained from pounding at the Library's defenceless walls.

Emily reached behind her back...only to grasp at air where her supersoaker should have been. Realization hit like a splash, instantly cooling her anger.

"Oooh that's right..." She muttered nervously. "Divinity...yeah..."

She did not bother waiting for a second to allow her situation to sink in. Instead she turned on her heel and fled, a cloud of rubble billowing out behind her with a crash.

OOO

" _Stop running, you giant pansy!"_

"I'm not running! I'm advancing in another direction!"

A flying bookcase almost put a premature end to the conversation.

" _I think we used that joke already, host."_

"YOU CALL THIS A FUCKING JOKE?!"

Michael had to give the Darkness credit – he did not feel nearly as overwhelmed and panicky as he should have, with a misanthropic voice in his head keeping him distracted. That did not stop him from screaming, however. A tentacle snaked out behind him, hissing as it came too close to a wall lamp, and slammed a door closed behind him.

"Sure, shut the doors! That'll keep her out!" Michael exclaimed, bending double over the staircase banister for a second to catch his breath.

" _It won't,"_ the Darkness chose to ignore his sarcasm. " _Which means you need another plan – quick sharp. And turn the lights off! This is a stairwell – not a tanning bed!"_

The nearest light switch was on the opposite side of the rectangular stairwell. Michael had just a second to consider barricading the door with a nearby bench, before it exploded outwards into splinters. The agent shielded his eyes as paper and wood fluttered down around him.

"Heeeere's Lifey!" the Sovereign chanted, her strings reaching out to snare the bench.

"Kyaa~ Here's Aster!"

Michael had just enough time to throw himself out of the way before a pillar of ice shot out of the floor and punched Life back into the dark corridor.

"Aster?" Michael whirled to see the fae hovering in the middle off the stairwell, her staff resting casually behind her back. "What the hell are you doing here?! You're supposed to be watching the other agents!"

The blue haired girl shrugged. "I got bored," she said, brushing imaginary dirt of the end of her staff. "Followed the explosions. Hey, were you running from her?"

"Yes – and it's not running. It's advancing in a different direction!"

"…sounds like running to me."

The Chief Agent's groan turned into a sudden shriek, as his arms were yanked skyward like an overenthusiastic student. His head snapped up, and found thin black strings wrapped around his wrists like fishing lines.

"Aster!" he managed to yell a warning before his arms came down to wrap around his sword. Extra strings were appearing, snagging his fingers and gripping them around the hilt.

"Uh oh," Aster darted back across the gap between the stairs just in time to avoid the downward strike that would have cleaved her in two. A single tentacle of Darkness emerged, snapping with its snake-like head at the strings, only to shriek as it too was ensnared.

"Aster get out of here!" Michael's legs were floppy beneath him, but the strings wrapped around his ankles and walked him forwards like a poorly controlled marionette. Behind him, Life emerged from the debris, her hair a mess, and her smirk wicked.

"I've no strings, to hold me down-"

"Oh please! No Age of Ultron references!" Michael yelled, shrieking as his body lurched to the edge of the stairwell, pivoting over the seven story drop. Another tentacle of Darkness shot out, only to be seized by another string. Both it and the first tentacle dissolved instantly, as Michael stood almost directly under the huge chandelier in the middle of the stairwell.

"Bad puppet," Life singsonged, lifting her hands, strings coiled around her fingers like snakes. "No arguing with your master."

Flicking a hand, Michael's right hand seized his sword and thrust it like a javelin across the gap. Aster effortlessly moved, but the job was done – the sword plunged into the light switch panel, and with a crackling of sparks, the stairwell was plunged into darkness.

There was a tiny glow, as Aster summoned a ball of moonlight into the palm of her hand. Around her, fierce orange eyes glowed, surrounding her on all sides. Teeth sparkled in the magical glow, before with a single shriek, they pounced on their victim.

Like a candle flame, the light was instantly snuffed out.

OOO

Sierra Iphelea did not try to talk him out of it. She just looked at him long and hard, recognized that stony expression for what it was, and she knew that nothing would sway him.

She got to work immediately.

The actual process was swift. No pomp. No ceremony. Just her, Aide, and a potion of Phoenix and Vampire blood, alone in Sierra's usual room in the tavern.

But they were not really alone. In a shadowy corner of the room, Adrian the Librarian watched, unable to ignore the clench of his heart as the potion passed the young man's lips, or able to stop the tears of despair as his younger self pushed through the magic ravaging his system. His fur bristled at the hair raising scream, as the knowledge of his own futility and smallness in the world hit him hard, and he sagged heavily into the floorboards, as he emerged from the overwhelming experience, still breathing with panting, shuddering gasps.

Barely twenty seconds after the potion had been swallowed, Aide sat up again, neither dead nor alive.

Sierra's face lost some of the tension, and a smirk twitched at her lips.

"Nice hair," she greeted the newly turned Blade Dancer.

Adrian hadn't even registered it. Aide's usual ebony mess of hair, was a ghostly silvery white. The young man made no move to look at it or even acknowledge her statement. He was shaking – the process had barely lasted a minute, but to Aide, it seemed to have lasted days.

It took Adrian a second to realise that he was shaking too. Somewhere, in a locked off portion of his mind, he knew how it felt to come out the other side of this process. A cold sweat was forming on his body, his fur growing slowly clammy.

If Sierra cared whether or not he was actually listening, she did not show it, shrugging casually, and continuing as though nothing odd had occurred.

"Sometimes that happens," she assured him. "People lose weight, or their eyesight goes funny. Sometimes magic isn't happy with the payment…sometimes it asks for a tip, as it were."

It was a hell of a payment, Adrian thought to himself, recognising the process for what it was. He could see plots and character's personal development weaved all over this story like a tapestry. Normally every person's lives were a single length of thread, stretching off into the distance, from beginning to end. Blade Dancers usurped this, effectively by taking the two ends of their lives and tying them together. This put their bodies in a state of constant self-renewal, meaning that they could rapidly heal and take the heavy hits required to go up against gods. It also meant that they could not sleep.

 _If I'd just thought about it_ Adrian thought bitterly to himself. _I'd have noticed the signs all those years ago when Phoenixia was first writing this series…_

"You alright?" Sierra asked, as the newly initiated Blade Dancer rose, shakily to his feet. The answer was clearly no, but Aide gave a short nod anyway.

"Good."

No sooner had he got to his feet, before the youth was sent flying back into a wall. Adrian yelped and darted out of the way as Sierra advanced, already raising a fist.

But Aide was not helpless – he was a trained city guard. To his astonishment, he found himself perfectly able to think through a strike that should have broken several of his ribs. Without even thinking, he brought his arms straight up into a guard, and locked Sierra's incoming fist. Her eyes flashed.

"What was that for?" he demanded, a little winded, but mostly unharmed.

"You've accepted this power, and this life," Sierra told him. "Now you must learn what you are to go up against!"

Twisting out of the lock, she struck, sending dust and chips of plaster billowing through the room. In the next room of the tavern, a half dressed couple screamed.

 _His mum is going to kill him_ was the only thought going through Adrian's head, as his younger self retaliated in what was certain to be a long and intense training session.

OOO

Fighting was not in Valerie's nature by any means. Running was always preferable.

Ari understood this too, which was why she was not particularly surprised when her familiar yanked her back into the familiar surroundings of the Library. Here she had the home field advantage, and she nodded thankfully at the little dragon, before finding her feet and taking off for the nearest door.

She was in the yoga room, and she hopped the mats and made it to the door as her skin tightened with sudden nerves. Order had followed her. He was not flashy or dramatic about it, like the rest of the Sovereigns, but she knew he was there, as scythes of wind began to cut through the bookshelves, sending pages fluttering across the room before the door swung shut behind her, blocking the sight.

"Where to?" she asked, wondering if it was possible for her heart to thump right out of her chest, as she ran down the corridor.

"Are you prepared?" Ari asked seriously, and Valerie did not have to ask for her to elaborate.

"To kill him?" she asked, feeling a shudder of apprehension in spite of herself. "Yes."

The dragon nodded. "Then somewhere high. You will need every advantage."

That was not an encouraging statement, but Valerie let her have it. She would take any advantage too. The corridor spread out before her, morphing into one of the main staircases.

"Perfect," the healer muttered, taking the stairs two at a time as the door to the yoga room exploded into the corridor behind her.

"I've got him," Ari assured her, whirling in midair, her small wings flared out as she barred the end of the corridor with a fierce glare.

Feeling the burn in her chest, Valerie pulled herself up the stairs, as Ari's shrieks took her into the battle.

OOO

Fire raced across the street like a special effect. Pedestrians screamed and ran for cover as shards of ice lanced through the air and shattered into shrapnel on the ground.

High above, Tash tumbled out of a dive and pinwheeled across the ground, skidding to a halt at an intersection. Traffic screeched to a halt around her, several cars skidding at the carpet of ice that suddenly spread across the tarmac. The Society leader jumped clear before it could snare her, coming to land on top of the nearest set of traffic lights.

"That all you've got?" she snarled as the angel flapped into view. Perfect icicles materialised in his grip before he hurled them like a set of javelins. Like a pair of flares, Tash's wings reappeared and she twisted out of the way of the first one, only to shriek as the second icicle speared through her wings and spread like paint to encase the entire limb. She plummeted heavily to the ground, the rough road shredding her knees like tissue paper.

"Give into salvation!" Purity was practically snarling. "Stop trying to fight me!"

"Over my dead body!" With a flare of magic, the ice melted away from Tash's wings, and turned into puddles around her feet as she darted up the road to deliver a flaming strike to Purity's torso. Shards of ice shot up in a protective shield before the Sovereign, leaving the strike to graze his shoulder. Flames licked at his face and he staggered to his knees as Tash landed behind him, immediately jumping ten feet into the air to give herself some more distance.

"Get this through your head, Purity," the Society leader turned to glare. "I don't want saving! And I don't need it!"

Her opponent did not move, remaining as he was, crouched in a puddle of melted ice in the middle of the intersection. Before Tash could move to land and open a plothole however, she became conscious of a chill that had settled around her. Something white and cold brushed against her nose, and her whole body suddenly burst into paralyzing agony. She plunged heavily into the road, the storm of sparkling snowflakes descending heavily around her. Nephthys clattered some distance away, and she began to scream, as each snowflake seemed to burn through her skin like a white hot needle.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Purity was whispering, the deadly snow settling harmlessly in his hair and on his shoulders as he rose from his crouch. "I call it The Cleansing Storm. It's like holy water in snow form – designed to purge the body of its sins. Oh, its not without pain...but then saving never is."

Her flesh was burning like it had been soaked in acid as the liquid melted and began to absorb into her skin. Now she could barely breathe, let alone scream. All she could do was curl in on herself and gasp for a respite that would never show itself as the snowflakes swirled faster and faster around her. Tears were breaking out of the corners of her eyes, but she could not feel them. Surely her skin had burned off now, and her very soul was not far off that fate either.

Through blurred vision, and the roar of wind, she caught sight of Purity, watching the scene unfold with a resigned expression, before turning his head away and the snow wrapped her in its cold, dark embrace.

OOO

" _I've got no strings to hold me down,"_ Life giggled twisting her strings in a way that could only make sense to her. Michael wished he could block his ears, but his limbs were still snared in that terrible grip as the tentacles pounced on their victim in the darkness, smothering her from view.

"Stop singing!" Michael could only shriek, horrified by what he was doing, and wanting to scream at how powerless he was to stop it.

"Make me," Life stuck her tongue out and went back to humming. " _To make me fret. Or make me frown..."_

Michael screwed his eyes shut.

" _I had strings. But now I'm free-"_

"Kyaa...there are no strings on me."

Astonished, Life whirled, her fingers jerking the tentacles away sharply as she moved, to reveal nothing but air. Floating behind her, bathed in silvery light, Aster glared.

"Sorry," the fae shrugged. "Not a fan of tentacle porn."

Life's lips pulled back in a snarl, and she flung herself out of the way as Aster's staff came around to swipe at her face.

Relief was shortlived, as Michael felt himself being yanked over, and flung bodily at the fae. Both agents landed in a heap someway down the corridor.

"Ugh..." the chief agent muttered, yelping as Aster's staff bonked him heavily on the head. "OW!"

"Sorry!" his colleague said. "Had to check!"

Scowling, Michael rubbed the back of his head, euphoria surging through him as he realised that Life had released him. He scrambled to his feet as the Sovereign approached, her stance menacing.

Aster gave a sudden screech, as her body lurched upward with a familiar limpness. Her staff swung again, and Michael scrambled backwards before it could catch him in the gut.

"Oh come on!" he exclaimed, as Life yanked Aster upright and catapulted her towards him.

" _Would you like me to behead her?"_ the Darkness asked conversationally.

"No way!" Michael exclaimed, making a hasty block against Aster's staff. It slid off the diamond sword with a shower of ice.

"I'm sorry!" Aster whined, yelping as she swung her staff up again.

"It's alright!" Michael assured her, grunting as his strike to her wrist was blocked with a jarring blow to his shoulder. "Sorry!"

"Oh I could watch this all day!" Life smirked, leaning back against the wall, her fingers jerking like a pianist as she weaved her puppet down the corridor.

And Michael realised, with a surge of dread, that she definitely could.

OOO

Emily knew the corridors of the Library Arcanium like the back of her hand - a back of her hand that tended to move around and change places on a regular basis, but familiar none the less. She knew what lay behind each door in the corridor, and she recognised all the twists and turns as she bolted past them.

She doubted that she would recognise the corridors after this fight was over.

Resolve tore his way after her, shredding walls and bookcases to confetti. His gauntlets were fully charged, and his powers were working to full capacity. She knew with a nasty clarity, that he wouldn't stop until he killed her.

She charged straight into the wall at the end of the corridor, bouncing off the bookshelf, and tearing down the right hand side. The ground beneath her gave a wrenching crack as the foundations began to buckle, and her foot went straight through it like wet biscuit. Shrieking she dropped into the corridor below, her hands scrabbling for purchase that just was not there.

She landed feet first, the shock jarring up her bones and into her spine as she crumpled to the tiled floor. One of her knees had landed in a puddle which oozed through her leggings, and her hand was covered in something sticky. Heavy boots thudded on the tiles ahead of her, and she tilted her head up to see Resolve looming overhead, his right gauntlet glowing by his ear.

"Yield to me."

Emily shrieked and cringed away from the incoming strike. There was a sound like jelly being sucked through a straw, and Resolve gave a yelp of alarm. She peered back up just in time to see him rip his right arm free from what looked like a monstrous blob of matter. His left arm was seized with a sucking noise, and he whirled to punch the newest threat with his right gauntlet. Emily recoiled in horror as the reddish brown goo splattered all over her, mixing with the blood and dirt still matted in her hair to form a horrible sludge.

She screamed as the sludge seemed to pulse and seep over her head, trickling its way down over her ears and around her jaw like disgusting fingers. She clawed at it, but it only came away in viscous strands before snapping back to ooze around her nose. Ahead of her, Resolve was struggling in the same way as mouldy sludge seeped over his gauntlets and began crawling up his arms. She smelt decay, filth and...tomato sauce?

Her stomach turned over in terror as she recognised the out of date appliances and the linoleum countertops, just visible beneath the pulsing, rippling mouldy ooze, now pulling itself across the floor towards its victims.

They had landed in kitchen three.

OOO

"Carry the three…" Harriet could not remember doing this much maths with such intensity since her A-Levels. And the fate of the world certainly had not rested on her getting an A in that. Slamming her pen into the paper she screamed in frustration. Her hand was cramping after working for so long, and her brain was starting to feel stretched. "Runoa, something is going wrong with this!"

She was not the only frustrated party. The former Librarian reached over her shoulder and snatched the paper away, scanning Harriet's scribbles. She hissed between her teeth.

"This has to work, Harriet!" she snapped. "Without this, the entire spell falls apart!"

"Well something needs to be changed further down the formula then," Harriet jabbed a finger at the huge whiteboard that they sat next to, a curious mixture of numbers, runes and other symbols scrawled over it. "Because I can't get these numbers to crunch."

"We've tweaked this bit of the equation five times already!" Runoa tossed a pen into the floor, and gripped two handfuls of her own hair. "I'm not messing with it anymore, or there's no guarantee that it will work!"

"And there's not even a guarantee if we don't get this equation right!" Harriet snapped thrusting the paper at her. "Don't get pissy with me just because you made this spell so ridiculously complex!"

The former Librarian's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful Marlow. I don't need to be here helping you."

But Harriet was not easily intimidated, and rose to her feet, eyeing Runoa challengingly.

"Yes you do!" she hissed.

As if premeditated, there was a terrifying crash somewhere in the far reaches of the Library. All the lights flickered and died instantly, plunging everyone into darkness.

" _In the dark blue sky you keep. And often through my curtains peep…"_

The insane giggling rang through the Library, sending a chill up the spines of everyone listening.

"Peek a-boo, Society. I see you!"


End file.
